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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26728486">Wisps of a Valiant Hero</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/InediblePeriwinkle/pseuds/InediblePeriwinkle'>InediblePeriwinkle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Henry Stickmin Series (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>?? - Freeform, Canon Death, Ghosts, M/M, Minor edits to canon, Snippets in each chapter leading to a bigger story, Survivor Guilt, Trauma and humor intertwine, Valiant Hero Ending | VH (Henry Stickmin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:15:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26728486</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/InediblePeriwinkle/pseuds/InediblePeriwinkle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months ago, Henry's acquaintance-sort-of-friend was tragically killed in the line of duty. Since he'd died having saved Henry's life, the thief decides to use his skills to finish what Charles started. When he gets assigned a new partner, he's not exactly ready to be a team player. It feels too disingenuous.</p><p>But the thing about death is that the people we love never truly leave us...sometimes they can't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Calvin/Henry Stickmin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>396</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Replacing a Hero</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Henry.” </p><p>He looked up, defiant, in a manner that would have gotten discipline from anyone else. At the very least should have gotten him a firm a talking to. </p><p>Not only was he not scolded, Galeforce looked over the table in a sympathetic manner. </p><p>Henry ripped his gaze back away, jaw clenched. He stared at a corner of the building, where a folded paper cup sat forlornly on its own. He just had to hold himself together until this is over, disappear back into the shadows until he was summoned again. He cracked the joints in one of his hands. </p><p>“You’re no good on solo missions,” The General said bluntly. “I had to assign someone to you.” </p><p>“You didn’t.” </p><p>Henry's voice was rough, quiet. </p><p>That really should have gotten him in trouble, but Galeforce merely cleared his throat correctively. Henry was still avoiding his gaze.</p><p>The two of them were quiet, and he heard the military man sigh, something heavy and deep.  </p><p>“Charlie was something special, Henry,” The General’s words were a physical punch. “No one knows that more than we do.” </p><p>We do. </p><p>Reluctantly, Henry looked back up, expression disquiet. The General folded his hands on the desk, unmoving. </p><p>The man watched Henry closely, in the shrewd way a man used to fighting surveys a task. Then he nodded to himself, pushing a stack of papers on his desk into a more tidy manner. Something that Henry had come to realize meant he needed to brace himself for something awkward. </p><p>“If you’re not ready,” The man said, using an oddly gentle tone more suited for a stern father than Henry’s superior, “I will get you off the base and somewhere to live while you-”</p><p>“No.” </p><p>Henry’s jaw pulsed from being clenched so hard. </p><p>“…Sir.” </p><p>There was something approving in the look he got back. He didn’t want it. Henry shifted again, wishing he’d just be dismissed. </p><p>“I hand-picked your new partner,” Galeforce told him. “I think you’ll get along with her. Come back here for a briefing tomorrow and you can meet her. Shipping her in tonight.” </p><p>Henry nodded, silent. </p><p>“You can go, Henry.” </p><p>He was being treated far too nicely. Henry preferred to being chased across the country by every authority figure ever to being treated with kid gloves like this. </p><p>He turned on his heel, leaving the room behind him without another word. </p><p>Replaced. He was supposed to be Charles’ permanent partner when this was all over. They talked about it while flying, the pilot bubbling over with excitement. If Henry was up for it. He’d agreed, of course he had. He’d been bored out of his mind, taken for dead, and Charles was <em>fun</em>. A weird, slightly ditzy wildcard of a guy and someone who could match Henry’s manic energy with a level-headed and game personality. </p><p>He swerved around a group of people, pulling his hoodie up over his head before they got a good look at him. He’d pitch anyone asking him questions right now across the fucking room. </p><p>Henry Stickmin, the ex-thief, Government agent, he lost his partner, did you hear about that? Calvin was his, poor bastard. He was up there with him when it happened.</p><p>Henry would rather just not deal with that at all. No questions, no wondering, no one staring at him when he didn’t answer. No one knew ASL, they didn’t have the patience for waiting until he wrote something down, they thought his charading was funny. </p><p>Henry ducked out the door, speed-walking back to his government-issued room. </p><p>The air was crisp, a dry sort of cleanliness that heralded autumn. Henry walked with his hands shoved in his pockets, ready to glare any anyone who even looked his direction by accident. </p><p>Replacing Charles. Ridiculous. Give the guy high honors, label him a hero, then tell Henry he’s getting a new partner no opinions wanted. </p><p>Henry was a thief. He didn't work with people, he didn't like people, he didn't need people. He was just here temporarily and for one person only. Because he’d been frustrated dealing with it, because they’d gotten so close to eliminating the Toppats entirely, because it had been <em>personal, </em> he'd told him and he’d died doing his job. </p><p>He couldn’t get his fucking key in the lock, metal scratching metal. </p><p>Charles had been killed because he saved Henry’s life. He’d stayed hopeful right up until the end, voice rattling in pain, encouraging Henry to be optimistic until his words had been obliterated mid-sentence.</p><p>Henry stumbled inside, breath caught in his throat. </p><p>He was a quiet person, only speaking when the situation needed it or in pain, but he vaguely remembered screaming. Just a feral, enraged, devastated roar, slamming his hands against the window until blood smeared the glass like a stained window in a church. </p><p>Henry had never really had a friend before. He’d never lost one until now. </p><p>He closed the door behind him, feeling absolutely hollow. He stepped into the apartment and sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands and taking deep breaths. </p><p>He didn't like people, but he'd liked Charles. The pilot had been bright. Blindingly so, cheerful and excitable and ready for anything. Whatever Henry wanted to try Charles was up for it. Never treated him like he was crazy for his wild ideas or acted like him being so quiet was even odd. </p><p>That’s what you would like about Charles, too. He treated everyone with a laid-back sort of friendliness that Henry hadn’t really encountered elsewhere. He was ready for any situation possible and handled everything to the best of his ability. </p><p>He could feel the ghost of the squeeze he’d given his shoulder at the bar, having agreed to all of this out of a vague sort of need to be busy and a genuine like of the guy. The phantom sensation of being shoved into the escape pod alone, realizing what was happening far too late to help. </p><p>It had rocketed off into the dark, the growing distance between them feeling like a rip in fabric. He’d watched the station until it faded from sight, the body of a hero forever unrecoverable, lost to the void of space. </p><p>Charles had a gravestone. There was nothing buried in it. There wasn't anything left to set in a casket. He was stardust, remnants of a human being out of reach. </p><p>This was who they were replacing, to Henry. Forcing him to work with like he could tolerate anyone else and vice versa. </p><p>“They’re insane,” Talking to himself was something he’d only taken up after the explosion. His words rang in the empty room. “Replacing you.”</p><p>Why couldn't they let him work solo? Galeforce was far too concerned, he'd been doing fine for the most part. Give him all the missions possible, let him do this last thing for the pilot, one final favor for a friend that somehow felt Henry was someone worth saving. If he couldn’t have Charles as a partner, he didn’t want one. </p><p>He was just here until he felt like Charles would have been satisfied. Until the other Toppat bases were also kicked in, shredded like a hornet’s nest, left bare for birds to pick the remnants. </p><p>Then he’d fade back into a life of nothing, too afraid to continue a life of crime and no love for the military. Once it was all over. </p><p>“We’re close,” Henry’s voice was gruff, tired. “There’s three more bases, Charles. And that’s all.” </p><p>He was so close. It was late in the game to change things up, he was doing fine on his own. </p><p>Henry’s bandaged fingers ached with the burns underneath, wraps extending up his arms, reminding him that even he could fuck up. </p><p>“I’m a thief,” He said to the empty room, to Charles, to the memory of a person he was only just starting to really get to know, “I’m not meant for this.” </p><p>If he thought about it, if he let himself look out of the corner of his eyes, he could see flits of red. It was better to just not look. He spent too many nights jerking awake and turning, thinking he was going to see him face on. </p><p>“I’m not here to be part of a team,” He said, over his clasped hands. “I’m only here for you.” </p><p>The room is silent, cold. In his peripherals, the red flickered worriedly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Meeting the Replacement</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Originally part of chapter one, split for better flow.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Henry overslept. </p><p>It wasn’t personally uncommon, but in a place that really emphasized being on time constantly, it was a habit he was trying to break. His phone buzzed itself silly, eventually falling off the bedside table, and that’s what finally got him up. </p><p>He’d sweat through his old tshirt. The void of stars was replaced by broad daylight, already far too late to be starting his day. </p><p>It took another five minutes to shower quickly and change and now jogging down the apartment hallway, cursing Galeforce out under his breath for making the meeting this early. Not to mention forcing this on him in the first place.</p><p>Someone else to learn, to not talk to, to watch him go on missions with the expression of someone who expects him to turn against them. Like his past as a thief meant he was going to suddenly join someone who got his friend killed in action. </p><p>People didn’t bother to try and get to know him. Honestly, that was suiting him just fine. It was the lack of any sort of trust that was becoming annoying. At what point was he going to be considered trustworthy?</p><p>He was still gawked at daily. He had people watching him now, as if they were making sure he was running towards the right place. Keeping tabs on him. He ignored them and looked up, a habit now, seeing clouds instead of stars. </p><p>Stars. </p><p>The floated in his vision, at the corners, like the red and greens did. Space was empty and full, still and active, silent but ringing with the absence of a voice in his ear. </p><p>He’d never been that far from the world before. It would have been better if it had been closer to home, he thought, not so far away from everything they knew. It wasn’t really a resting place, up there. Too cold, too blank, too quiet. </p><p>Henry was putting up with this as a final thanks. An apology. A goodbye. He didn’t think anyone would appreciate it, but it would make him feel better. Then they could all fuck right off and he was going to become more notorious than ever before. </p><p>He jogged into the office building, lungs burning. He was meant for sprints, not endurance running. He was already sweating again. </p><p>He slowed down only just before stepping into the room, still mostly damp from the shower, disheveled, and given a dirty look by the General who really should have shouted him back out the door like a pissed off dragonborn. </p><p>The woman sitting sullenly in the chair by his desk narrowed her eyes. She was smaller than him, probably a bit younger, with fire-red hair and lipstick to match. </p><p>Something about her made Henry nearly turn right around and walk back out. He knew this one.</p><p>Henry frowned right back at her, trying to tick through his mental database of people he’d encountered over the past two decades. </p><p>“Henry,” Galeforce used his first name even in front of the newbie, “This is Ellie Rose. The two of you have…similar backgrounds.” </p><p>Okay. Fellow criminal. He was really collecting them, wasn’t he? </p><p>Ellie Rose wasn’t a name he knew. Henry’s gaze flicked away, staring down the General with all the frustration he felt. </p><p>The General gave him another look. An I’m-working-with-you-don’t-fucking-try-me look. </p><p>Henry didn’t roll his eyes. It was just a close thing. </p><p>“You’ll both be working on the East Base mission later this week,” Galeforce was staring Henry down, as if the guy had a habit of interrupting. “You will get your briefing tonight. We’re giving Rose a day to get used to the base.” </p><p>How’d they get another thief to join these boring assholes? Henry looked back at Ellie who had her arms crossed so tightly he doubted she could feel her hands. </p><p>He’d been kidnapped. It would be a little hilarious if they’d captured another thief, let her loose on the base, and told Henry to babysit. No thanks, he’d point her towards the hangars and tell her to have fun. Watch the chaos unfold. </p><p>He had Charles, when he started. Someone grounding, friendly but not pushy, capable but not bossy. Cheerful, but somehow not annoying. In their last mission together, he’d been downright giddy. </p><p>She was looking more and more petulant. Galeforce was still talking and neither of them were listening. </p><p>He could imagine the pilot encouraging Henry to connect, in the hazy areas of his mind. A hand pressed on his spine, pushing him forward. </p><p>He grit his teeth. </p><p>Henry walked forward with the stiff-legged way of a man who didn’t want to even be in the room in the first place. He offered his hand, coldly, extended towards the woman. </p><p>She looked at it, back up with derision. Henry was suddenly very aware of both of their gazes trained firmly on him. </p><p>Yeah, this was a dumb idea. He retreated, far as what seemed socially appropriate, feeling a dark curl around his heart. Just never could please anyone, could he? </p><p>There was an awkward beat, something where Henry felt he was breathing audibly. </p><p>“Right,” The General said, “Henry.” </p><p>He tossed something at him, a pair of keys that Henry caught without looking. </p><p>“Go show Rose to her apartment,” Galeforce shoo’d them. “Do not miss the briefing tonight, either of you.” </p><p>Henry hadn’t missed a single briefing, not since he decided he was doing this. That wasn’t for him and he was annoyed to be lumped in with her. </p><p>He barely looked at Ellie, turning around and walking out without checking to see if she would follow. </p><p>Goddamn. God fucking dammit. Henry’s fist clenched around his keys, metal digging into his palm. </p><p>“Hey.” </p><p>He didn’t look at her, but he did wait a moment, letting her catch up to his angry walking pace. </p><p>Ellie Rose was picking at her lipstick, scowling at him. </p><p>“You remember me, right?” She demanded, jogging to match pace with him. </p><p>Henry knew that she was familiar, but he shook his head anyway. Better just deny everything if you were unsure of the situation. </p><p>That only seemed to irritate her more.</p><p>“No, you remember,” She accused, eyes cool, “From The Wall.” </p><p>Henry slowed. </p><p>Oh. The holding room. He recalled there had been someone in there with him, someone with unnatural red hair growing out brown at the roots, uneven patches of lipstick, and a truly despondent expression. </p><p>It hadn’t been his problem and he hadn’t given it another thought. He’d been all about the escape, of getting away, of trying to escape Dmitri’s clutches and clinging to the cliffside. </p><p>He could picture her now. Her hair looked nicer and her clothes newer. He lifted a shoulder, nodding once. </p><p>He remembered. </p><p>Ellie Rose chewed on her lower lip. Expectantly.</p><p>Henry lifted a shoulder. She didn’t seem to get it. He signed, quickly, before turning back around. </p><p>‘I don’t speak.’ </p><p>Only in rare occasions. Never around other people, not even when his life depended on it. </p><p>He continued walking back towards his place of residence, Ellie walking behind. </p><p>“Sign language, huh?” The woman’s harsh tone was softened just a touch. “I don’t understand that.” </p><p>Yeah, well, no one did. There really wasn’t any point in knowing it because no one did. Henry lived his whole life either writing or typing or miming his thoughts and that was it. And that was only if others had the patience.  </p><p>Which was why he never spoke. He’d be okay with doing so once in a while, if he was comfortable enough or the situation required it. But if people knew you could speak, they’d insist you did so all the time. </p><p>He recalled staring down his sixth grade classroom, sweaty hands clutched in the hem of his shirt, back against the whiteboard. </p><p>People assumed you were playing dumb, being stubborn, being argumentative. If you stop speaking altogether, you have no chance to give someone reason to talk over you when you can’t even defend yourself properly. </p><p>Henry was tired. </p><p>“I’m not staying here,” Ellie said, as if Henry cared. “You made things really hard for me in there. It took me a week before I was able to get out.” </p><p>He turned, facing her, and applauded like she were a particularly stupid prize-winner.</p><p>The look he got was scathing and Henry felt a little better. He turned back around, less irritable.</p><p>To be honest, that was fucking hilarious.</p><p>Imagine, 50 years of never having a record broken and within the span of a week, two different people escaped the same inescapable prison. Two nobody thieves, smashing down the front door like it was made of cardboard. Azkaban step aside. </p><p>Wait, was it Azkaban or Alcatraz? Which one was the actual one in California? </p><p>Whatever. He’d give a decent chunk of treasure over just to see the look on Petrov’s face when he heard about that. </p><p>Henry walked up the stairs, checking her keys. She was on the second level, across the walkway. Across and a floor lower. At least they wouldn’t be next to one another. </p><p>Henry checked to make sure she was following. She gave him a sour look. </p><p>Yep, still there. </p><p>He beckoned at her, even though she wasn’t far, just to order someone else around for once. They stood in front of her door. She looked like she might want to drop kick him down the stairs. </p><p>Yeah. Well. He wasn’t exactly the warmest of welcoming committees. </p><p>He remembered a moment when the helicopter landed on the ground, after Galeforce (Captain, back then) had already told him he’d done really well, that someone had clapped him heartily on the shoulder and shot him a smile with the brightness of the sun. </p><p>He hadn’t wanted to punch the guy for it and that was his first clue. That a year later he’d follow him beyond the Earth itself. </p><p>Well, he wasn’t Charles. And that same spark between them simply…wasn’t there.</p><p>But he could still imagine him standing there, in the corner of his eye, hands in jacket pockets and pouting, for some reason. No, not for no reason. He wasn’t being very welcoming and hadn’t he felt out of place, out here? </p><p>She was like him, after all. He could tell. Cut from the same, highly illegal cloth. </p><p>Henry sighed, waving at her to get her attention. </p><p>He pointed to himself, deadpan, then pointed towards his apartment above. </p><p>Ellie Rose glowered at him and snatched keys from his hand. She unlocked the door with a couple of tries where he stood there awkwardly, staring. </p><p>And then she slammed the door in his face. </p><p>Henry finally rolled his eyes. </p><p>“Stupid,” He mumbled under his breath, along with a couple other choice words. What a dumb idea. Who thought up bringing in another wanted thief into the ring? And she had to be a thief, he could nearly smell it on her. That same want of things, quick thinking, disregard for the rules. He could sense his own. </p><p>“Too many of us, now,” He muttered as he unlocked his own door, shutting it with the heel of his sneaker. “This isn’t going to end well.” </p><p>You couldn’t trust thieves. Coming from one, you absolutely could not. Thieves lied to survive, which were the best sort of liars. They looked out for their own hides and that was all. </p><p>Henry wasn’t here for anyone other than his own intentions. </p><p>He flopped down on the bed, shoes still on, facedown. </p><p>He was going to have to babysit this once on the mission. If she didn’t immediately bolt, that is. Or join the Toppats. </p><p>If he thought too hard about how close he came to doing just that himself, for telling the government to go fuck itself and boarding the greatest thieving guild on the planet, he’d start feeling a bit sick. Now that they’d killed his only friend in the world. </p><p>Henry was hesitant to call anyone a 'friend', but that was what Charles had been. He'd been bored, tired, and he'd been delighted to see Henry was okay and wanted to drag him up through the atmosphere. Henry had let him, because Charles Calvin was his friend. He'd had an attachment from the beginning.</p><p>“I liked your voice,” Henry told the comforter on his bed, “It was annoying and it was nice.” </p><p>So human, imperfect and calm, ready to assist however needed. It gave Henry a reassurance he hadn’t ever gotten from someone else. That stomach-swooping, belief-rattling ‘oh, I might actually be able to trust you’ that was so precious, so fragile in someone like him. </p><p>“Trust is not easy,” Henry lifted his face to press his palm against an incoming headache, “Not for someone-”</p><p>He stopped. </p><p>His bed hadn’t dipped from another person’s weight, no one had been in the room when he flopped down and no one had entered. </p><p>Yet, he was staring at someone’s knee, someone cross-legged on his bed, in a military uniform. Boots included. </p><p>Henry slowly looked up, into the eyes of someone resting his chin in his hand, staring down at Henry with a soft look that definitely didn’t need to be directed at him. </p><p>Charles’ bright eyes met his own and the downcast look was replaced by astonishment. </p><p>Henry threw himself backwards off the bed in terrified silence. </p><p>He backed away like a terrified spider, sneakers squeaking on the floor. His heart was pounding in his chest, pulsing and nearly drowning out the gasping breaths he was dragging between his teeth. </p><p>No.</p><p>He exhaled shakily, staring up at the empty bed.  He looked around the room, carefully lifting his blanket to peer under it. Not a soul, not a hint. Nothing. </p><p>Henry looked over the side of the bed like a child. Nothing. </p><p>He was going crazy. It was really hard to swallow all of a sudden, now. For a second, that had looked real. Had looked real. </p><p>He didn’t recall ever looking that close into Charles’ eyes (had he? Maybe? After the first mission, in the bar, boarding the ship to head out to their last mission together?) but it had looked realistic. The shock, reflected back at him like he was equally startled. </p><p>But no, that was just…just the coping. Of his brain. Of missing him so much that his brain conjured him for him. He was just tired. He overslept, he was tired. </p><p>Henry reached with clammy hands, grabbing his blanket and pulling it to his chest. He needed to sleep. Everything was fine. </p><p>He was too afraid to turn around. It felt like the shadow of the guy was watching, staring intensely at his back. He could imagine the worried expression, a hand resting on his shoulder, trying to squeeze reassuringly. </p><p>That made it even harder to swallow, actually, and he was clearly having an allergic reaction to something. </p><p>He was, and it wasn’t anything he saw but his tired and grieving mind trying to make himself happy. That was it, all, end of story. </p><p>Henry squeezed his eyes shut and proceeded to not sleep at all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Introductories over! </p><p>Next time: Yeah, he's not tired and this isn't an allergic reaction. Mental breakdown, most likely....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Visitor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They had made it. They were in the clear. </p><p>Both their asses were right on those seats, two identical shit-eating grins. Charles had been safe. </p><p>It was Henry who was grabbed. A Toppat, so quickly from the hallway that he hadn’t any time to react. He was bodily tossed out onto the hallway and he knew it was it. </p><p>His face had been pressed against the metal flooring, blood and sweat on his tongue, and he breathed in once. Just once. That’s all the time it must have taken for him to shoot out of his seat and head in for the rescue. </p><p>Strong arms wrapped around his middle, hauling him up as easily as if he’d been a child. He was bodily thrown by someone with far more upper body strength than he had. </p><p>He stumbled into the seats, pushing himself up and whirling around, heading to the door before he was even completely sure what happened. </p><p>His hands met the reinforced metal and glass, a Toppat with their face smashed against the glass, Charles with the guy in a chokehold. </p><p><em>“Don’t worry about me. I’ll find another way.”</em>. </p><p>Henry had been launched from the station, not even thinking of strapping in. He pressed his shredded hands against the glass, pressing like he could push through and pull Charles back in with him, desperately breathing in and out and waiting. </p><p>Nothing, nothing but the first tumble of pods and sparkles of light beyond. </p><p>This was Charles. The guy with the greatest plans. Henry had waited. However long, it felt like an eternity, staggering on shaky legs to brace himself against the door and strain his eyes for any movement. Any escape pods after him that would signal his friend made it back safely. </p><p>
  <em>“Henry? You there?”</em>
</p><p>His mouth had been too dry to answer.  He made some kind of a noise, a strangled attempt at his name, breath choking him. </p><p>
  <em>“Man...that roughed me up. Got him though.”</em>
</p><p>Henry’s fingers were pale from the pressure he was exerting on the glass. </p><p>
  <em>“Gotta be another escape pod around here somewhere…”</em>
</p><p>Henry wasn’t a praying man. He pressed his forehead against the glass, eyes flitting from every inch of the station he could still see. Don’t let this be it. </p><p>There was a pause, and he realized Charles was very aware of what was happening. </p><p>
  <em>“We did it though. We got 'em. Pretty good plan. You could say it was the greatest-“</em>
</p><p>The endless void of sky lit up, a supernova among the cosmos, making it impossible to see the stars any longer. </p><p>It seared Henry’s eyes, a burning, aching thing. His stomach dropped and the light burned itself into him forever. It was like watching the end of the world. </p><p>He beat his hands against the glass and screamed. Screamed, begged, until the glass was smeared with blood and he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. </p><p>Slowly, the pods pulled away, a slow and elegant departure.  </p><p>The fireballs erupting from the station faded out as Henry left it, oxygen depleted, fizzling at the edges back into darkness. Then there was nothing left, only the middle burning fire beyond him and the stars. </p><p>He staggered back, collapsing into a seat, staring down at the floor. He breathed in silence, shivering alone in the pod. </p><p>Around him, the world became full of noise again as he began his descent to Earth. The walls shuddered and Henry remained still, bloody hands wringing together. </p><p>He didn’t remember buckling himself in, but he remembered the jolt of the parachute deploying. A heavy jerk that nearly had him upchucking all over the cabin. Then, a fluttering slowness. </p><p>Henry hit down in the middle of a field, alone, no other pods in sight.</p><p>He had to unlatch the door, kicking it a few times to loosen the lever. It gave at last and he stumbled out, fresh bruises mingling with the old. </p><p>It was hot, and he was alone. Henry looked up, expecting to see the station burning, a new sun alight in the sky. </p><p>It was clear blue above, the one and only visible sun searing his damaged eyes as he looked towards the heavens. </p><p>-</p><p>Henry sucked in a breath, face wet. </p><p>It was still dark in his apartment. Rain pelted the roof above, reminding him that he was, in fact, still on Earth. He blinked and fresh tears ran down his cheeks. He sniffled, shifting, sheets tangled in his legs. </p><p>It was so clear. So etched into his memory he swore he could feel the pain in his eyes from watching, again. How he’d misted blood onto the windows by screaming. How it pooled in the cracks and dripped, ruby red, into the spiderweb patterns. </p><p>Henry pawed at his face, feeling congested, face damp and entire body soaked in sweat. Another bad night. At least this one gave him time to shower before whatever bullshit they wanted him to do today. </p><p>Henry reached for his phone and paused. </p><p>His eyes flicked about four feet to his left, to a flash of dark color and bright red. </p><p>Unlike most times, it didn’t immediately disappear when he looked at it. </p><p>The man was tall, strong in the way someone who thought going to a gym was ‘fun’ was strong, but also in the way where he actually used said strength practically. His eyes were bright and his expression slightly spacy at all times. His jacket fit him too loosely and his shirt too tight, a handsome sort of guy with a sweet and muzzy kind of smile. </p><p>He was watching Henry, like he had earlier, only far less passively. This image of Charles wrung his hands, bit his lip, was shifting feet like he was trying not to do jumping jacks to burn off energy. </p><p>Henry was frozen, terrified, hand still suspended towards the table. </p><p>Charles sucked on his lower lip, brows furrowed like he was thinking. And then he looked up, into Henry’s eyes. </p><p>Again, shock etched itself into his face, this time accompanied by delight. He stepped forward, mouth forming words he couldn’t hear.  </p><p>Henry could read lips well enough to recognize his own name. </p><p>“No!” He said, finger pointing towards him, as if that somehow would make his delusions disappear. If he willed it enough, perhaps? </p><p>Charles stopped, tilting his head like a confused puppy. </p><p>Henry’s heart pounded in his chest. He felt dizzy. </p><p>“Don’t,” He said, voice rasping. His fingers were trembling where they pointed at him. “Don’t come near me.” </p><p>He saw Charles’ shoulders rise and fall. His lips formed his name again followed by many other words he just couldn’t catch. </p><p>Henry was shaking his head. He blinked, hard, more tears spilling down his cheeks. </p><p>Charles flapped his hands nervously, bouncing on the balls of his feet. </p><p>His name, again. Again. More words. His name. </p><p>“Stop it,” Henry pressed his hands against his face. Wouldn’t he have displayed some symptoms of a mental illness before now? His chronic apathy and self-hatred aside, of course. Was this the grief? Had he finally snapped? Should he have taken up Galeforce on that therapy offer? </p><p>Charles was wincing, fingers pressed against his lips. He looked distressed. </p><p>Henry could barely see him through his blurry vision. This wasn’t real. He was making this up, so desperate to be able to see him again, to have brought him home somehow, to have given him back something other than just taking it. </p><p>“You’re not real,” Henry willed the thing to disappear. “You aren’t.” </p><p>Charles’ lips parted. He reached for him with both arms, darting forward with an intensity.</p><p>“Stop it!” Henry raised his voice and the specter stopped in its tracks, eyes widening. “Not any closer.” </p><p>If he could get it to do what he wanted he could get it to go away. Henry steeled himself, an infamous and dangerous criminal, a skilled and master thief. He could will this away. He could do this. </p><p>“Go away,” He said, hands clenched to fists. Feel the words. Believe them. “Get out of my room.” </p><p>Charles was shaking his head, waving his hands, stepping forward again with a look of determination. </p><p>“I said LEAVE!” Henry grabbed a pillow and threw the thing at it, of course passing right through him without any consequence. </p><p>Without any consequence, only with Charles’ wide eyes looking hurt. </p><p>Henry choked. He was really losing it, wasn’t he? The thing that looked like Charles watched him, hands limp at his sides, and backed off about six steps. </p><p>Henry stumbled back against the wall, sliding down the painted sides. His shirt rode up his back, sounds fogging into something that deafened him.  </p><p>He had lost it. They were going to send him to a psych ward somewhere and he’d never be allowed back. To finish what he started. What Charles started. They’d set Ellie on the mission and she’d probably bail the moment they let her outside the walls. </p><p>He couldn’t breathe. Henry could see boots in the corners of his vision, pacing frantically from the length of the bed. </p><p>The boots suddenly came barreling towards him and Henry’s soul nearly leapt out of his body. He gasped for air, horrified gaze settling on a distraught Charles who flopped himself down in front of Henry with a devastated expression. </p><p>He made soft little waving motions with his hands, something trying to be calming, eyes bright and alive and full of fire. </p><p>Henry felt like he was a child again, curled up in some corner trying to calm himself, staring up at the shadow of his dead friend. </p><p>Charles sat crisscross on the ground, within arm’s reach. His chest was heaving. </p><p>Henry was frozen, tears dried on his face, a gaping horror where any sort of emotion should be. </p><p>Charles was pointing to himself with two hands, eyes locked on Henry. It wasn’t ASL, something far more primitive, just a game of charades. </p><p>Pointing at himself, fingers digging into his own coat. Towards Henry, then a hopeful little heart with his hands. </p><p>
  <em>I’m your friend.</em>
</p><p>Henry’s legs slowly uncurled, splaying out on the carpet. Charles smiled, eyes crinkling, peering through the formed heart like silly schoolkid. </p><p>He looked so real. Tentative now, back to biting his lip and fidgeting, eyes flitting all over Henry’s face. </p><p>They stared at each other, Henry with his spine still pressed against the wall. His chest ached like his lungs had been squeezed out of him. Charles leaned back on his arms, chest rising and falling in clear breaths. </p><p>“You’re not here,” Henry reassured himself, looking this extremely real looking character in the eyes. </p><p>Charles shook his head, tapping his chest with a middle finger and rapping against the ground with his knuckles. </p><p>Henry shook his head, as well, more lightly, head feeling dizzy. </p><p>He saw his name, formed on lips that trembled from the tightness of his smile. A smile that didn’t reach his eyes, instead was riddled with distress. </p><p>That was something that was off. Henry stared blankly at this shadow, wisp of someone he used to know. </p><p>He’d looked so tired when he’d met Henry for the last time. The pilot had bags under his eyes, a worn droop of his shoulders. His face, normally softened with at the edges in a youthful sort of way, had been sharp. He’d looked despondent, up until he’d seen Henry. </p><p>For the moment, he’d thought the guy was going to hug him. He hadn’t stepped away. </p><p>Henry licked his lips, slowly, this Charles coming back into focus. </p><p>Sharpened jaw, tired and frightened eyes, a worried furrow to his brow. He was still talking to Henry, ramblings he just couldn’t hear. </p><p>Dazed, the thief raised a hand, silencing the soundless word in a single gesture. Henry pressed scarred fingers into Charles’ face. </p><p>And passed through. </p><p>It didn’t feel cold, damp, or like anything at all. Charles blinked, reaching, and his hand passed through Henry’s. </p><p>Henry lowered his hand, keeping the other’s gaze. </p><p>He looked like he had right before the destroyed mission. Exhausted, sad, anxious. Henry didn’t know what to feel. His emotions felt present but somehow numbed, like procaine at a dentist. </p><p>Charles seemed to sigh, forced smile falling into something solemn. Henry stared at him, limp, all fight gone. </p><p>He’d gone crazy. He’d still give a good amount to touch him right now. Delusion or no delusion. </p><p>Charles shifted, limbs in all directions as he moved to sit right next to Henry, so close that if he’d been corporeal, they’d be shoulder to shoulder. </p><p>He settled in, snuggling back against the wall, a vivid image in the corner of Henry’s eyes. </p><p>Hot tears blurred his tired vision once again. </p><p>Next to him, an intangible hand reached for Henry’s, a stubborn and picking determination as he misted through them again and again. </p><p>Exhausted, Henry leaned, as if trying to lie on his shoulder, not moving his hand away from the plucking fingers. </p><p>After years, a history of wild events that had made him who he was, toughened him, gave him his creative skills: he’d finally been broken. This shattered him. </p><p>Henry couldn’t speak, letting the insistent specter continue to try and comfort him.</p><p>He had to get up in a couple hours. Would the delusion still be there? Would he wake up alone? Henry wasn't sure which sounded worse right now. He wanted this this gone, but the idea of it slipping away hurt.</p><p>The Ghost-Charles had his tongue poking out slightly, brows furrowed, trying to touch Henry with one finger instead of his whole hand.</p><p>With the thing's attention off of him, Henry stared. Took in everything he'd never truly appreciated before now.</p><p>The soft twitches in his face when he concentrated. The constant shifting of his eyes. His steady, unmoving posture, a body that looked sturdy and strong enough to lean against. If he'd really been there.</p><p>
  <em>If he'd known he was going to meet his eyes for the last time, over the head of a Toppat member, Henry would have at least signed a thank you. Too little, but better than what he'd actually given him.</em>
</p><p>Henry was tired.</p><p>He said nothing to the specter, but flipped his hand over and watched the other trace unfeelable lines into his scarred palm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Keep Your Distance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was just another day that he woke up soaked in sweat, heart racing like he'd been chased, ears full of blaring alarm sounds from the nightstand. This time, his face was streaked with tears as well, new claw marks on his throat from those dreams of suffocation. </p>
<p>God no, not mission day. Not like this. </p>
<p>Henry drew out a shaky breath, sore fingers digging into his arms. His alarm continued to blare with increasing volume, a screaming reminder that he was supposed to be at his best today. Get up, infiltrate another Toppat base. Intel preferred, sabotage next. Get it done. </p>
<p>He reached over to slap his phone screen, bathing him in silence once again, but leaning up like that had made him connect eyes with something.  </p>
<p>The Thing was trying to hide in the corner like a child playing a particularly bad game of hide-and-seek. </p>
<p>He stared at it, blankly, meeting its pained gaze. Today, at least, his heart didn't immediately squeeze upon seeing it, he didn't half-dazedly reach. Instead, he felt nothing at all. And nothing was preferred. </p>
<p>This was fine. He was just going to ignore it. It wasn’t there and it wasn’t him. Today was a normal day. </p>
<p>Henry stiffly went about his business, picking up his clothes without looking over at it again. He showered and changed in the bathroom and threw his clothing on the floor as he re-emerged. Everything was normal, everything was fine. </p>
<p>He wouldn’t bother eating anything, so he didn’t have to worry there. Just his shoes and coat, then he was on his way. Pity the delusion seemed to follow him around. If it were a real ghost, it would be tethered to his home, right? That was how he knew it absolutely couldn’t be real. It wasn’t. It couldn't be. </p>
<p>Henry sat on the bed, slowly tying the laces of his boots. </p>
<p>Okay. Intel today, they needed the codes for a new Toppat bunker so others could go in for a raid. It was impenetrable, apparently. </p>
<p>Just like all the others. He watched the laces slide against each other, forming a solid tie that he tucked into the strings. Impenetrable. That word meant nothing to Henry. </p>
<p>Twin boots were nearly touching the reinforced toes of Henry’s. He refused to look up, closing his eyes to stand and feeling for his closet. </p>
<p>He slid the door open, to a couple shirts, a hoodie, and two uniforms. And, on the right, two almost-twin coats. </p>
<p>Military grade both, though one was stolen and one was his. Henry didn’t have to check which one bore his name, the other one was visibly larger and tattered at the edges. </p>
<p>Something old, unmissed, when they cleared out his room. Was it moral to take something that probably went back to whatever family he had? No, it wasn't. </p>
<p>But there had been more than one jacket in that closet and Henry had never been much for morals, anyway. </p>
<p>It wasn't like they'd ever taken pictures together or anything. What else did he have to keep? </p>
<p>Henry swung his own jacket on, swinging his arms to shake the sleeves in place, and turned to meet the figment face to face. </p>
<p>He stumbled, backwards, and the shade pointed with its full arm towards the coat left in the closet. </p>
<p>Henry swatted at it, stubbornly silent, stomping past and grabbing his keys from the counter. He jogged out the door without turning around, determined to not let this thing cause him emotional distress today. Like six breakdowns were enough, this was starting to kill him. </p>
<p>He locked his door behind him and the delusion hovered at his elbow, scowling at him like it was irritated. </p>
<p>It didn’t matter. It was something fabricated and it did not have feelings. No matter how much his brows furrowed or lips twisted, not matter how those bright eyes dulled or turned sorrowful. It didn't actually feel anything because he wasn’t real. It was just Henry being disappointed in Henry. </p>
<p>Not Charles being upset with him. </p>
<p>He needed to concentrate. He was going to be put up with Ellie, who he hadn’t spoken to yesterday while he was busy having a number of crises in his apartment. He was possibly going to have to keep her alive, depending on how much use she’d be. </p>
<p>Henry walked down the stairs, shade floating in and out of his shadow. He could see its hand come close to his on the railing as they both skipped steps. </p>
<p>This was going to be difficult. </p>
<p>Henry shoved his hands in his pockets, purposely looking away as the specter flew around him to walk backwards, trying to mime words. </p>
<p>He shook his head, signing at it. </p>
<p>‘Don’t mess this up for me.’</p>
<p>How ironic, if a vision of the person he was doing this for got him killed. What a way to die. </p>
<p>The vision looked puzzled, mimicking the twisting, open-handed sign you would use for talking about screwing something up. </p>
<p>It did so poorly, like it had never seen it before. Henry stared at it, only briefly, momentarily puzzled. His footsteps slowed. </p>
<p>‘You should understand sign,’ He told the thing, and it while it watched him intently there was no recognition. </p>
<p>‘C-H-A-R-L-E-S,’ Henry signed, and the vision of the man only tilted his head the other way.</p>
<p>The stood there, the two of them, and terror crept into Henry's chest. </p>
<p>It looked up at him, frustrated look almost curious. He pointed at Henry’s hands, shaking his head so hard his headphones were nearly dislodged. He didn’t understand. </p>
<p>He didn’t understand. </p>
<p>Henry didn’t know if Charles knew sign or not. Would his brain just assume he didn’t know it, since so few people knew even a conversational amount? Was that how this worked?</p>
<p>‘You don’t understand me,’ Henry signed slowly, staring at his face. ‘You don’t understand? </p>
<p>Still puzzled. Another shake of the head. </p>
<p>Henry rubbed his thumbs against his fingertips. If he didn’t understand…if he didn’t understand, then-</p>
<p>“Hey.” </p>
<p>Henry nearly leapt out of his skin, jolting sideways and holding up an arm to shield himself. </p>
<p>Ellie stared at him, fringe in her eyes, arms crossed. </p>
<p>Henry didn’t know what to say, even if he’d felt prone to speaking. He shrugged, looking away, accidentally making eye contact with Ch- Not-Charles instead. </p>
<p>He stared back at Ellie. Then at the Not-Charles. Ellie never looked away from him.</p>
<p>She couldn’t see it. It wasn’t real. </p>
<p>The thing had its hand on its hips, was watching Henry disapprovingly. Ellie just looked more irritated as Henry’s silence stretched on. </p>
<p>He sighed, loudly, tilting his head back like an overdramatic teenager. This was not the day for this all. </p>
<p>“I’m not happy about this, either,” Ellie said, hovering at his elbow. “Let’s just go. Get this over with.” </p>
<p>Fine. Henry couldn’t agree more. He was so tired. He marched forward with the two unwanted shadows in tow. </p>
<p>The men out on the tarmac knew who he was by now. He didn’t make eye contact or wave when they gave their stilted greetings. </p>
<p>His boots slowed. </p>
<p>He looked up at the helicopter, wind from the rotors whipping his hair and jacket. The air from it stung his eyes, catching his breath in his chest and squeezing. For a second, he was rooted to the spot. Staring up at the metal side of the helicopter, both alien and overly familiar. </p>
<p>Weird, it hadn’t done this to him last time he’d stepped into one for a mission.</p>
<p>He felt like everything was moving in slow motion. The rotors above the aircraft may as well have not been moving at all, still among the screeching roar that preceded a taxi down the runway and liftoff. </p>
<p>A long, silent ride into a dangerous zone, headset buzzing with empty static.  </p>
<p>“You alright?” </p>
<p>Embarrassingly, it was Ellie who checked, not the nameless people in uniform. The other criminal looked both disgusted and wary. </p>
<p>His tongue burned and he realized he’d been biting it. He nodded his head, swinging up into the body of the machine with bile in his throat. </p>
<p>He sat down heavily, rubbing his sweaty hands on his thighs, brain buzzing. He was vaguely aware of Ellie sitting down in the tentative manner of someone who hadn’t flown much in their lives but far more aware of the chills running over his own skin. </p>
<p>It was fine. Everything was totally normal, he was just tired, or allergic to the air now, somehow. Look, just focus on the mission. </p>
<p>The shade was standing next to him, staring ahead, in a way that made Henry forget what he'd just told himself. It looked strange all of a sudden, lips parted and skin clammy. </p>
<p>It took two staggering steps like a reanimated corpse, towards the cockpit, reaching out with a hand towards the seat like he’d reached for Henry. </p>
<p>Desperate, shocked, horrified. </p>
<p>It settled its hand softly on the back of the chair, facing away from the staring thief. </p>
<p>It stood there as the pilot introduced himself, a hollow noise in Henry’s ears, as they started to travel down the tarmac. Ellie replied with something short and there was silence again, the deafening noises of takeoff rumbling through Henry’s bones. </p>
<p>Ellie had kicked up one of her boots, resting it on the window. Her arms were crossed tightly and Henry’s gaze flit out the window. </p>
<p>The ground began to depart from the metal container leaving it, all occupants silent. </p>
<p>The shade was standing in front of him. He could see it in the corner of his eye. He stubbornly kept his gaze away, reaching into his pack for the map of the place they were going into, scenery falling away from them outside the window.  </p>
<p>The thing settled down near his legs, and Henry brought the map up so close to his own face he could hardly read it. </p>
<p>So this place was built next to a dam. Sabotage could be fun if they could figure out a way to send everything haywire. And there was a great entrance right outside the building, a ladder that reached almost water level. </p>
<p>They’d have to avoid the turbulent flow, land downstream and trek upwards. </p>
<p>Henry glanced up. Normally, he’d say a few short words to the pilot, but with the newcomer sitting sullenly next to him, he felt a little too tongue-tied. </p>
<p>He unbuckled himself, making Charles and Ellie both look over. He waved Ellie off, not even acknowledging the specter, and swung up to the cockpit to show what’s-his-face where he wanted to go. </p>
<p>All was well, and his boring voice would alert them ten minutes to to landing. Then that was that, not another word was spoken. </p>
<p>They had to plan this right. Henry returned to his seat, noting Ellie’s suspicious gaze through fire-red fringe. He grabbed onto his seat for balance, leaning on it, before shucking off his uniform jacket and pulling out the plain black one he used for covert ops. </p>
<p>The whole uniform he wore was dark, fitting, but with allowed movement. Ellie wore something similar but she’d rolled her pant legs up and wasn’t wearing the issued shoes. She could do fuck all with the dress code, Henry didn’t give a shit. </p>
<p>The delusion was staring at him in a way that was decidedly uncomfortable. He raised an eyebrow as it’s gaze trailed along arms stretched over his head and shirt riding above his stomach. </p>
<p>The two met eyes and he saw the other jolt. It blanched and glanced away. Henry let the jacket drop onto his shoulders, staring. </p>
<p>They were hitting turbulence, and Henry was forced to drop back into his seat. His jacket still hung over the arm of the chair and the wisp seemed interested in it. It was picking at it, much like it had tried to take Henry’s hand a couple days back. </p>
<p>Yeah, no, he wasn’t getting any concentrating done. Henry closed his eyes, resting his head back against the seat and pretended he was just in the backseat of a very noisy car. A kid again, bored and bitter, just trying to claw his way through life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next time: The mission begins and none of them is doing okay.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Lost Another One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Previous chapter and this were once the same chapter, I've split it for readability.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hello?” </p><p>Henry’s voice wheezed with the effort of each breath as he ran: </p><p>“I’ve lost contact with my partner. We need pickup.” </p><p>In the corner of his vision, the hallucination was keeping step with him, racing down another hallway with shuddering lights. He had bigger things to worry about. </p><p>The shuddering noise was new. It rumbled, low, distant blares of an alarm sending fear shooting through Henry’s veins. </p><p>Sweat dripped down his neck, soaking the collar of his shirt. There was nothing but static coming from other the comms, despite his shaky attempt to call for help. No one was answering. Ellie Rose had run off on her own with the map. Henry was alone, alone, alone, with no idea how to get out, much less finish the mission. </p><p>“I’m ditching,” He whispered to himself, breaths heaving, “Forget the mission.” </p><p>The specter gave him a worried double thumbs up as they finally slowed to a jog. He needed to catch his breath. </p><p>He felt like he’d been running forever. There was no end to this, no opening. No window to the outdoors. </p><p>He couldn’t think. He knew he was off his game today, he was all thrown off, he was lost and he no longer felt the cool adrenaline rush he associated with missions or heists. All he felt was the cold curl of fear around his veins, threatening to sever them and leave him bleeding out. He was alone, mostly. </p><p>Henry chanced a glance at the shade.</p><p>It stared back at him, bright eyes fierce, shaking his head and urging Henry onward. Shoo’ing him with its hands, quickening its own speed. </p><p>Henry broke back into a run, and the hallucination slipped ahead. </p><p>Where was Ellie? Was she responsible for the alarms? Was she why they hadn’t run across anyone yet? They had to all be chasing her, looking for her, that was why Henry was merely lost and not being hunted. </p><p>That wasn’t going to last. </p><p>The not-Charles came to a sudden halt, throwing his hand up. Its hand up. </p><p>Henry stopped, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, fringe free of its hairstyle and sticking to his forehead. He stared, alarms ringing in his ears now, as the specter pointed to a vent in the wall. </p><p>
  <em>I bet this vent leads somewhere…</em>
</p><p>Henry shook his head, bracing himself and walking through the shade to jog onward. </p><p>He wasn’t doing this today. He needed out of here immediately, and the way out was definitely not going to be inside a vent. </p><p>The hallucination was back at his elbow, looking utterly pissed. </p><p>So. Who cared. </p><p>He had to think, he had to concentrate. What would he normally do? What would he do? What’s his next move? </p><p>Henry staggered, body trembling, and he smashed into the ground face-first. </p><p>He could taste the static among the blood running into his mouth. He’d been tased enough times to know what it felt like. </p><p>Ow ow ow ow ow ow. His muscles were twitching, fingers trembling, and the blood was filling his mouth. </p><p>And then it was gone, and Henry spat out the blood, feeling it slough over his lips and through his teeth. </p><p>He shuddered, arms twitching as he tried to push himself up.</p><p>“Stay down!” A man was speaking, “Stay down- I need backup! I’ve got one near the warehouse!” </p><p>Warehouse. Henry stirred feebly, head aching. A warehouse was an exit point. His nose was hard to breathe through. </p><p>The ghost was near him, on its knees, a truly ferocious look on its face that <em>definitely</em> didn’t belong on Charles’ soft, mild looks. </p><p>He was urging him up, teeth showing in a grimace, reaching for Henry like he wanted to tug him up by the jacket. </p><p>It, it, not he. </p><p>Henry turned over, pushing himself up on his elbows, and stared down the barrel of a gun. The taser lay on the ground, forgotten. The Toppat’s hands were shaking. </p><p>Warehouse, warehouse, warehouse, he needed to get out of this and exit. There was a gun in his face, what did he do. What did he do now, he couldn’t think. The specter was in his vision again, standing, looking around, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t think anymore he couldn’t do anything-  </p><p>Ellie Rose came screeching around the corner and stopped, gaping, at Henry lying bloodied on the floor and a tall, gruff-looking Toppat cleanshaven with a brown hat that whirled when made a noise.</p><p>Henry didn’t try to think, he just reacted. </p><p>He launched himself at the man’s feet as he fired, sending the shot flying yards to the left of her. </p><p>“GO!” Henry barked at her, dried blood on his lips, as the Toppat went down. </p><p>
  <em>Got ‘em, though-</em>
</p><p>No, no, no, stop. Not right now, not now. </p><p>Henry reached for the gun and was kicked in the side, grunting as he hit the opposing wall and the Toppat fired again. </p><p>Ellie staggered.   </p><p>Henry’s heart stopped. He could see her trying to clutch her shoulder. </p><p>Like a blanket, a cool indifference settled over him. Something dark, apathetic, something so much more like himself. </p><p>Henry didn’t remember getting up, but he remembered grabbing the gun. He felt the man’s fingers twist unnaturally at the way he took it from him, the feeling of him going down after being hit in the head by the handle of it. The give of bone under weight. </p><p>He knew how to use a gun, why it didn’t occur to him to shoot the guy he didn’t know. But for a second, all he felt was muted horror and adrenaline. </p><p>He was at Ellie’s side the next he recalled, arm around her like they were old friends meeting up for coffee. </p><p>“We need to go,” He said, hoarse, and her wild eyes stared straight ahead as they ran. </p><p>She was shot. He had to do something about that. Pain was starting to flood his senses, making his eyes and nose sting, joints aching. </p><p>Charles took Ellie’s other side, expression determined, and the three of them reached the double doors together. </p><p>Henry burst through, Ellie looking pale, leaning more and more on his weight at every step. </p><p>Yes, okay, he could see palettes of boxes everywhere, and sunlight sifting in windows that stretched overhead. </p><p>Charles was waving his hands, flapping a hand together and pointing to Ellie. </p><p>
  <em>Make her talk.</em>
</p><p>“Tell me what you did,” Henry said, heart pounding. His body stung all over and he was having trouble seeing. </p><p>“Made…” Ellie’s voice trembled. She sounded so young. “Overheating, thought they’d be busy, thought it was okay-”</p><p>“Okay,” He was nearly carrying her now. “Okay, okay.” </p><p>He had to get out, but she was going limp. </p><p>She was going to die. </p><p>Charles stood in front of her, waving at Henry, miming putting her arm around him, lifting her legs. </p><p>A fireman carry. Wouldn’t that make her bleed out faster? </p><p>Henry stared, and Charles looked furious. It wasn’t a look he recognized. It wasn’t real. </p><p>The specter did it again, and reached for Henry with both hands, fingers curled like claws. </p><p>Ellie swayed. </p><p>He caught her legs, hefting her up, and Charles nodded quickly. </p><p>Hot blood seeped into his clothes, cooling on contact. He needed to hurry, get her out of here. </p><p>Henry followed Charles as the other wove through the towering boxes half-covered in plastic. Ellie wasn’t even complaining, and Henry was terrified he was going to feel her go cold. His legs were shaking. </p><p>Charles pointed to an open dock, and Henry peered down the five foot drop. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>The alarms blared behind him and they had to know where they were going, now. Henry dropped, falling to his knees, wincing at the sound it made. </p><p>He nearly went down. He couldn’t afford to stop. The helicopter was so far away. It had taken them twenty minutes to trek in. </p><p>Henry staggered back up, jogging towards the cover of the woods. Concrete turned to wet grass that clung to his canvas trousers and the boots they were tucked into. His whole body was shaking, about to break down from stress, and branches whipped at his face. </p><p>He and Charles kept going, kept running, back towards where he thought the helicopter was, when Ellie went limp. </p><p>Henry stopped short, Charles crashing through the brush and immediately turning around, face frantic. </p><p>“She’s gone,” Henry said to no one, motionless, and Charles shook his head violently. </p><p>He made a motion, and Henry stared. </p><p>He made it again, nodding, encouraging, and Henry lowered her to the ground. </p><p>She was bleeding, still. Henry stared at the wound, bloody and gaping. </p><p>Charles made another motion and Henry shucked off his backpack. Tossed it on the ground, stared at it. </p><p>Another motion. Henry followed it blindly, opening the thing. </p><p>Oh. </p><p>A first aid kit. Was this really the time? </p><p>Henry took it out, staring up at Charles, waiting. He was useless right now, in the middle of a panic attack, he needed the help. He needed it. </p><p>He’d flipped it open and Charles dove in to crouch next to him, pointing. A latex strap, gauze. Plastic. </p><p>Charles mimed taking the strap, tying it around her arm above the wound. Henry did, tightening it as Charles made a violent motion with his hands. </p><p>Then the gauze, plastic over, and pressure. Push hard. </p><p>Ellie was still breathing but she was so pale. Henry’s fingers were blood-soaked and shaking. His nerves were frayed. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. </p><p>He wasn’t sure, but Charles was sitting next to him, nodding encouragingly, making motions to breathe. </p><p>Henry’s breath stuttered and he stared through the brush in the direction of the base. </p><p>Charles was waving his hand again, in his face. </p><p>Inhale, his hands said, fanned and slowly pulling towards his face. </p><p>Henry inhaled. </p><p>Charles pushed away, slow, a crooked little smile on his face. </p><p>Henry exhaled. </p><p>Charles tapped his own headset, with his opposite hand. The hand Henry had free. </p><p>He touched his headset where Charles was, following as his fingers swooped under the curve of it. A button. </p><p>Charles nodded, and Henry clicked it. </p><p>Nothing happened. </p><p>Nothing, but Charles smiled, nodding again with zeal, and motioned to put both hands on Ellie, who was stirring. </p><p>She met Henry’s gaze, eyes wild, an animalistic look in them. </p><p>Charles made the ‘talk’ motion again. </p><p>Henry looked down, into her frightened eyes, and couldn't think of anything to say. </p><p>"You're alright," He said, feeling like it was a jinx to put forth in open words. "You're fine." </p><p>She didn't think so. Neither did Henry. </p><p>But Charles was still making the motion with his hands, and Henry knew it was important she keep her eyes open. </p><p>"You should have waited for me," Henry rebuked her, palm still pressed heavily into her arm. Crusted blood stuck to his lips and also his fingers. "Gone in together." </p><p>Ellie said nothing. Henry didn't like talking, but he was terrified Toppats were going to crash through the viney surroundings, was scared no one was coming, knew that if he took his hands away from stopping the blood flow, she was going to die. Another one. </p><p>Life was just determined to spit in his face after all of this, huh? He inhaled shakily. </p><p>"I lost my partner earlier this year," Henry told her, voice cool, "So you're not going to bleed out." </p><p>He couldn't allow it to happen. Ellie was staring at him, wheels weakly turning in her head, taking that in. </p><p>"His name was Charles," Henry said, and the vision in front of him looked over with an expression so soft it made his heart squeeze. "Charles Calvin." </p><p>He hadn't even known he had a last name until he saw the gravestone. He'd traced the letters with a finger, feeling the grooves in marble. </p><p>You weren't supposed to sit on a grave, but he knew nothing was buried underneath the earth. </p><p>Charles was scattered among the stars. </p><p>The ghost shifted, and Henry could almost imagine a hand pressed against his back. Reassuring. Warm. </p><p>"It's going to be fine," Henry said, "You're okay." </p><p>She was still listening, silent, gauze soaked rust-red with oxidation. </p><p>He could hear a helicopter. Toppats used them, also, he refused to let himself think anything good. He didn't know how to tell the sounds apart, how to tell military-grade rotors from a regular search copter. </p><p>But someone he knew did. </p><p>"Who is it?" Henry asked the shade of Charles, and got a relieved grin in reply. </p><p>Henry closed his eyes. Inhaled. </p><p>"It's going to be fine," He told Ellie, who stared up at the sky with a glossy expression, "We've got you." </p><p>Henry was alone, in the woods, just his broken mind and a dying girl. But for a moment, he could pretend this was how it was supposed to be. Him, Ellie, and Charles, three parts of a team.</p><p>Overhead, the tree branches bent with the force of wind from the helicopter's rotors.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Shatter</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I have to hand it to you, Henry,” Galeforce said, two days later, once Henry had recovered enough to drag himself back into the offices, “You two somehow managed to make that succeed.” </p>
<p>Henry was tired, eyes feeling rough and dry, staring out the window as he was spoken to. </p>
<p>Beside him, the shadow stood at attention, listening respectfully in what Charles probably had done as a soldier. </p>
<p>“Ellie is recovering well, I’m sure you checked on her.” </p>
<p>Henry nodded, still avoiding eye contact. As if he’d just what? Hope she hadn’t bled out since she’d been rushed off the helicopter? Prayed? Please. </p>
<p>“Despite the mission’s hardships, you both pulled through in an extraordinary manner,” The General continued, and Henry could hear him leaning forward in his squeaky chair. “Your behavior alone was exemplary.” </p>
<p>Henry swallowed, jaw clenched.</p>
<p>He’d been shaking as he washed the blood off of himself, the wispy delusion at his elbow, leaning on the sink, trying to say something with a gentle look on its face. </p>
<p>He’d curled into bed shivering, the ghost safely across the room, hands still damp from sinkwater and twisted into the sheets.  </p>
<p>“You saved her life, Henry, and I have to say…” </p>
<p>The shadow turned, looked directly at Henry, in something so serious that the thief forgot to keep his eyes off him. </p>
<p>Don't fucking say it. </p>
<p>“Charlie would have been proud of you.” </p>
<p>Henry’s muscles locked. He avoided looking at the shade. </p>
<p>He didn’t know a damn thing about first aid. Why he’d tied a ribbon-thing around her arm he wasn’t sure, because surely that didn’t keep the blood from going into her arm? </p>
<p>And the button on his headset. That, maybe, he had been briefed on and forgot, had remembered in his subconscious. But. </p>
<p>He’d been commended for doing everything correctly. Henry had stared, blankly, at the pleased-looking ghost next to him. He hadn’t known. He didn’t know that kind of shit. <br/>He hadn’t known. </p>
<p>Galeforce was saying something else. The shade was trying to get into Henry’s line of sight, looking more and more irritated. </p>
<p>Henry signed something quick, fled. Back to his apartment, to go curl up under the sheets and try to sleep away the hours of the day he wasn’t working. </p>
<p>Henry strode across the base, frigid winds whipping at the clothes he’d been wearing since he showered after the mission. His hair wasn’t styled, hanging lank in his face. </p>
<p>He hadn’t thought of that himself and he knew it. </p>
<p>Someone waved to him, some kid he had seen around but never spoken to, and Henry ignored him in order to start jogging, focused on getting back home. Getting to his safe place.</p>
<p>Charlie would have been proud. </p>
<p>Charles had shot him such a relieved smile when the crews had taken Ellie. Something broad, reaching his tired, sunken eyes, lighting them up into something recognizable to him. Familiar. </p>
<p>For a split second, it was like he was sitting there beside him, on the floor of a helicopter, fingers still bloodstained and his nose and lip busted from the fall. Beaming at Henry with affection, something soft and gentle, something that rocked through him and shocked a little reality back into his veins. </p>
<p>He’d broken down again, that night, and tried to go back to convincing himself everything was…that nothing…</p>
<p>Henry slammed his apartment door shut, forcing breaths into his lungs. </p>
<p>The delusion was standing in front of him, a constant in his life now, something he could not get rid of. </p>
<p>“Go away,” Henry croaked at it, and the thing only scowled. </p>
<p>He’d never seen Charles be pissed at him before. Happy, worried, determination always left a furrow between his brows but it wasn’t like this. Didn’t drag his face down with the intent of it, didn’t line his eyes with something that made him look older. </p>
<p>Henry had to look away from it again, collapsing onto the couch. He was too tired to make it to the bed. </p>
<p>It kneeled in front of him, looking up at him. Accusatory. Like it knew. </p>
<p>Of course it knew, it was him. </p>
<p>“You aren’t real,” Henry told it, quietly, locking eyes. “You’re something I made up.” </p>
<p>It shook its head, slowly, reaching like it would touch Henry’s knee. </p>
<p>Henry kicked his foot at it, knowing it would pass through. The look he got was devastated. </p>
<p>Then, enraged. </p>
<p>It was saying something, lips moving, eyes alight with a fire. It leaned on the couch with its elbows, face angled up at Henry’s. </p>
<p>Henry stared, legs turning to jelly. Getting up didn’t occur to him, forced to look Charles’ infuriated expression in the eyes. </p>
<p>Would he really be this angry at him?</p>
<p>“You aren’t real,” Henry tried to rationalize, stay calm. “Your mind does this. Makes up that the people you love are still alive, you’re something I created.” </p>
<p>The shade’s eyes widened, lips parted, bright eyes flitting between Henry’s. </p>
<p>“You’re dead.” Henry kept his voice solid, swallowing down the waver. “I’m grieving. That’s it.” </p>
<p>No matter what he knew or didn’t know, what he’d made up in his mind. That was all he knew for absolute certain. He was dead, he saw everything. Even pods closer to the station had been incinerated, Henry had been lucky. Had been saved. </p>
<p>The thing had gotten up, was storming around, a frantic pacing. </p>
<p>It ran its hands through frazzled curls, expression frustrated. Henry watched, fingers curled into the palm of his hand. Digging into the flesh, grounding him. </p>
<p>Once this was over, he was leaving. He was changing his name and escaping to somewhere small and unknown and he’d never think about his old life again. Let himself sink into a character until even he believed it, let himself go back to how things were. </p>
<p>The delusion swiped at Henry’s countertop in frustration. </p>
<p>A mug fell onto the floor, breaking the handle and sending shards of ceramic skittering over the floor. </p>
<p>Both men froze. </p>
<p>Chips of ceramic were scattered around the toes of Henry’s sneakers. </p>
<p>Charles’ incorporeal boots were standing in a puddle of stale coffee. </p>
<p>Henry lifted his eyes, slowly, up strong legs, a fitted uniform, over a broad chest and sharp chin. </p>
<p>He met Charles’ eyes, large and wild, staring down Henry like he didn't quite believe it, either. </p>
<p>He didn't know first aid. He'd been sitting on the couch. The mug had been sat there, barely a sip taken from it, earlier that morning. Solidly on the countertop, away from the edge. </p>
<p>Henry couldn't take in a breath. He felt like he might vomit instead. </p>
<p>He saw his name formed on Charles' lips, curving softly between tender words. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. <em>Henry</em>. </p>
<p>It- he- came up to him, knelt again between his legs, hands on either side of the thief. He reached, gently, towards Henry's face. </p>
<p>The ex-convict held still, breath caught, waiting to be released. </p>
<p>Charles' fingers passed over him unfeeling, which caused another furrow between his brows. He tried again, tongue poking out slightly through his lips, narrowing his eyes. </p>
<p>Henry swallowed and Charles followed the motion with his eyes, flitting back up to catch Henry's gaze. Waiting. So open it hurt, all soft and worried, his lip worried between his teeth and his expression like he was waiting to be pushed back against once again. </p>
<p>Henry's sneakers crunched porcelain. </p>
<p>"Charles?" He asked, so quiet that if he'd been any farther away it would have been inaudible. </p>
<p>The pilot smiled with every inch of his face, relief flooding his skin. </p>
<p>He nodded, soft at first, then vigorously. He said Henry's name in return, through a smile, all teeth and curved lips. </p>
<p>Henry licked his own. Reached a hand out himself, towards the overgrown mop of hair Charles had been sporting when he died. </p>
<p><strong>BAM</strong>. </p>
<p>Henry and Charles both jumped, staring at the door. </p>
<p>Henry slowly stood, despite the expressions he was getting from Charles. Someone didn't know how to fucking knock on a door. </p>
<p>Shaky legs carried him over, and he peered through the spyhole. </p>
<p>He unlocked the door, swung it open, raised an eyebrow in question and Ellie Rose shouldered past him with surprising strength for someone who had been shot two days ago. </p>
<p>"Hey." She said, left arm bandaged, and went to go sit on his recently-vacated couch. </p>
<p>Henry glanced over at Charles who looked just as bewildered. </p>
<p>The woman sat there, not looking at him, blinking against what was probably a decent amount of painkillers. </p>
<p>Why the hell was she sitting in his apartment? Did she think she was in hers? Henry and Charles shared a glance, something that flit oddly in Henry's stomach. In a good way this time. Less like he was going to vomit and more like...more like...sort of like... </p>
<p>"You have ceramic on your floor," Ellie noted, "Did you know that?" </p>
<p>Henry nodded, still holding the door. She didn't' belong in here. This was his space, his escape. </p>
<p>Ellie picked at her lipstick with her good hand, looking as uncomfortable as Henry felt. "Did I make you do that?" </p>
<p>"No," Henry said, speaking before he even thought about it. He wasn't that skittish. </p>
<p>Normally. </p>
<p>"Huh." The girl watched the pooling coffee. "Just...having a bad day?" </p>
<p>"No," Henry said again, stupidly, staring right Charles. "I...have a...cat." </p>
<p>Charles cocked his head. Ellie looked over at him for the first time. </p>
<p>"...You have a cat?" She repeated, carefully. Intrigued. "Here?" </p>
<p>"Yes," Henry said, struggling to get his bearings. Too many things happening at once. "A cat." </p>
<p>"On base." </p>
<p>"Yes." </p>
<p>"Why?" </p>
<p>Henry made a face, unwilling to even try to think up a response to that. He wasn't the biggest animal person most of the time, too many years being chased by dogs off highly-guarded properties. </p>
<p>Ellie pouted, bright red hair frazzled. </p>
<p>Charles was trying to knock another dish off Henry's countertop. </p>
<p>Henry felt like he'd been suddenly made a babysitter. </p>
<p>"Can I see the cat?" Ellie Rose tried again, and he'd had enough. </p>
<p>"No!" He snapped, making Charles look at him indignantly. "What do you want?" </p>
<p>Ellie's lips twitched, but she seemed to give whatever she was about to say a second thought. She inhaled, visibly, exhaling before trying again. </p>
<p>"Look, I just wanted to say thanks," Ellie's gratitude was punctuated by an untrusting glare. "For the...mission thing. And sorry I left you behind for it." </p>
<p>Henry had been pretty pissed about that, but it had taken a backseat to his new trauma to add to the collection. </p>
<p>"Okay," He said, ignoring the wave of hands in his peripheral vision. </p>
<p>Ellie's expression soured further. "Yeah. Okay." </p>
<p>"Anything else?" Henry asked, wholly aware he was being rude. </p>
<p>"Nope," She said, standing with a wince. Henry tried to squash his sympathy down. "That was it." </p>
<p>Great. Wonderful. He wasn't the person she should be thanking, anyway. </p>
<p>Henry's heart stuttered. </p>
<p>"Charles," He said suddenly, making the specter jump and Ellie stop in her tracks. </p>
<p>The girl suddenly looked far less angry. More wary than anything else. "Yeah?" </p>
<p>"Charles..." Henry struggled to think of what to say. "Showed me that." In a way. </p>
<p>Charles' expression turned into something so soft it hurt to look at. Hand over heart and everything. </p>
<p>Ellie pursed her lips, taking another careful breath. </p>
<p>"Well, then I owe him." She looked over Henry, carefully, like she was expecting him to attack. "That's why I'm not kicking you in the shins right now." </p>
<p>Henry didn't understand the correlation, but his shins appreciated it. </p>
<p>He just nodded, keeping his door open, looking away. </p>
<p>Ellie passed through, wordlessly. She'd been in his apartment for maybe three minutes total. </p>
<p>Henry stood, holding the door open like an idiot, mind whirling. </p>
<p>Ellie was okay. Ellie wanted to say thanks. Charles was who she should thank. Charles showed him what to do. Charles knocked a mug off his countertop. Ellie saw the broken chips, the spilled coffee. Henry had been too far away to knock it off. Charles was happy that Henry was talking to him. </p>
<p>Charles hovered next to him now, gently miming shutting the door. </p>
<p>Henry did, stunned, pushing it closed with both hands. </p>
<p>Charles mimed locking it. </p>
<p>Henry did. </p>
<p>Now, the pilot's long fingers pinched aimlessly at his sleeve, the only thing Henry could see in his tunneled vision. </p>
<p>He followed the hand, the one trying to hold his wrist, back to the couch. Sit down. Crunch porcelain underfoot. </p>
<p>He'd broken the glass. He'd told Henry how to save Ellie's life. He'd sat next to Henry during every waking moment, or else paced just out of reach. He'd listened to Henry screaming at night, covering his face and ears, tears dripping down both their faces. </p>
<p>Had all of that been real? It couldn't have been. Couldn't really be him, really, not entirely, but maybe a shade, a shadow, an imprint of his personality that stuck itself to him. Had attached itself in those last, emotional moments together, when Henry had screamed his name and then wordless, eyes burning from the powdering fire rocketing through space. </p>
<p>Charles' hand sat next to his. It was all he could see, could focus on. </p>
<p>If it had really been him, he'd be mangled if he was in any way together at all. Burnt, blackened, with exposed bone and sinew. Henry saw it every night. No, this was something different. </p>
<p>But. </p>
<p>It may not be something of his own making. </p>
<p>Maybe a last parting gift, something to help him complete this mission he'd set himself on. It showed up at the right time. Henry didn't necessarily believe in an afterlife, didn't want to think about it for Charles, but he could believe in a strong imprint marked on himself by someone so vivid and bright. </p>
<p>"Charles," He said, voice hoarse. </p>
<p>Charles' pinky linked over his own, an unfeeling hold of hands.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Shithead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A chapter with a bit of a reprieve before we delve back into the Sad.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Charles was still sitting on the couch when Henry came back after his shower. </p><p>The ceramic shard were swept up, Henry was actually wearing clean clothes, and he even paused to grab a handful of stale pretzels before moving to sit on the coffee table. </p><p>Charles was staring at him. And not blinking. It was intense, like he was trying to read Henry’s mind, and honestly it was making him uncomfortable. </p><p>Henry shoveled a handful of pretzels into his mouth and the other seemed to laugh, teeth showing and eyes crinkling at the edges. </p><p>He looked happier. More chipper, more like <em>Charles</em>, all bright eyes and sweet, heart-melting smiles. </p><p>Henry was so fucking tired. </p><p>“Charles,” He said, and the other’s smile broadened eagerly. “Watch.” </p><p>He raised his right hand, spreading his thumb, index, and middle fingers, then pinched the three together quickly. “This is ‘no’.” </p><p>‘No,’ Charles signed. </p><p>Henry made a knocking motion. “Yes.” </p><p>‘Yes,’ Charles signed, chewing on his lower lip. </p><p>Henry held up a finger by his head. “I understand.” </p><p>‘I understand,” The other copied. </p><p>Henry shook his head, keeping his hand as it was. “I don’t understand.” </p><p>‘I don’t understand.’ </p><p>“Okay.” Henry let his hand drop, rubbing his fingertips against his thumb. “Do you have all that?” </p><p>‘Yes,’ Charles signed, eyes alight, ‘I understand.’ </p><p>Henry swallowed. </p><p>The other seemed to nearly be vibrating, quivering in the arms and legs and staring Henry down. Desperately waiting for a word, a question, something.</p><p>Now that they had some form of communication, Henry couldn’t think. He stared across the tiny gap to the flicker of a man sitting on his couch. He was twisting his hands in his lap, one leg fidgeting. </p><p>He was still waiting. Henry could have crawled up the wall in anxiety.</p><p>“I don’t know what to ask,” He admitted, and Charles gave a twisted sort of smile. </p><p>‘I understand,’ He said, and Henry ran a hand through his damp hair. </p><p>“You’re dead,” He said bluntly, and Charles flinched. </p><p>‘Yes,’ He signed, expression a little dazed. ‘I understand.’ </p><p>He did. So he knew that. </p><p>Henry stared at him helplessly. </p><p>How did you realize that? </p><p>How long have you been here? </p><p>Were you with me this entire time?</p><p>You can’t be okay, but are you okay? </p><p>Do you think about it?</p><p>Do you remember what happened right before the escape pod left? </p><p>Did you mean for that to happen? </p><p>Was I supposed to save you? </p><p>Did it hurt or did you pass quickly? </p><p>Because the implosion should have killed you, but if the fire got there first and you burned to death would you feel that, would you feel the fire encompass you, melt your skin to your bones, send you screaming in pain until the shockwave reached you- did you feel anything?</p><p>Henry whacked his shin on the table during his mad dash to vomit pretzel in the bathroom. </p><p>Charles came whipping around the corner, jacket swinging as he screeched to a halt, crouching down uselessly on Henry’s tile floor amid dirty clothes he couldn’t touch and the towel he’d used to dry off. </p><p>Henry braced himself, cringing, waiting for a second onslaught. He wanted to tell Charles to go away, but the stricken look was making him feel like a real monster. Maybe be gentle.</p><p>“You can go,” Henry said, sweating. </p><p>‘No,’ Charles smiled lazily. ‘No.’ </p><p>That was who he was, wasn't he? Infuriatingly the Hero, someone Henry hadn't ever wanted to be tangled up with but ended up intertwined regardless. Indebted, always.</p><p>And unable to repay</p><p>Henry shook his head, shakily standing to splash his face with water. </p><p>Charles watched from the cluttered floor, legs crossed like he were in preschool. </p><p>“I’m so tired of this,” Henry muttered to himself, the sunken, tired eyes and overgrown scruff on his face. “I’m real fucking done.” </p><p>‘Yes,’ He saw Charles sign from the corner of his eye. </p><p>Henry leaned back against his sink, staring down at the pilot’s shadow. Charles cocked his head, eyes flitting over the thief’s face. The two of them were quiet, Henry’s stomach still churning. </p><p>Charles jabbed a finger in Henry’s direction. </p><p>“Yes, that means ‘you’,” Henry said. </p><p>‘You,’ Charles said, and thought a moment. </p><p>He carefully spelled words out in front of himself, like he was writing on an invisible whiteboard. </p><p>W-O-R-R-Y</p><p>Henry signed it for him, two hands in a motion up by his eyes. </p><p>‘You worry me,’ Charles dropped onto him like a nuclear blast, a nonchalant concern from someone who was <em>deceased</em>. </p><p>“Are you kidding?” Henry felt horrified, offended, and heartbroken all at once. “You’re fucking dead.” </p><p>‘I understand.’</p><p>Henry signed each word as he named it. “Sign. You are dead.” </p><p>‘Yes.’ </p><p>“Don’t worry about me. I’m getting this done.” </p><p>‘No.’ </p><p>“What do you mean, no?” Henry snapped, and Charles’ expression soured. </p><p>‘I don’t understand,’ The other glared up at Henry. ‘You worry me. I am dead, I understand. You worry me. No worry, I don’t understand.” </p><p>Henry rubbed a hand down his face. “You caught onto this quickly.” </p><p>Charles pursed his lips but looked pleased. Henry took this as a chance to change the subject quickly. </p><p>“If you want to have manners,” The thief told him, “This is ‘thank you.’” </p><p>Charles signed it, almost correctly, but with touching his hand to his lips first. Like he was blowing a kiss. </p><p>Henry didn’t bother correcting him. </p><p>Charles looked over him, carefully. It struck Henry then, this was the closest they’d been. Certainly the longest they’d interacted since Henry first saw him across the room, but also the closest in proximity. He could have nudged him with his foot if he were corporeal. </p><p>‘You.’ </p><p>“What.” </p><p>‘You sign.’ </p><p>Henry tilted his head. “You’re using it.” </p><p>‘No,’ He saw Charles sigh even if he couldn’t hear it. ‘You. You.’ He mouthed Henry’s name, eyes tired. ‘You.’</p><p>“Oh,” The thief rubbed his eyes. “I don't have a name sign.” </p><p>He could teach him fingerspelling. Let him slowly spell out sentences instead of play charades and yes/no. </p><p>Charles’ boot bounced as he thought over that. His gaze was faraway again, distant, a weirdly dazed thing he wasn’t used to seeing. </p><p>Henry’s stomach turned at the thought of asking this next bit, but at least he didn’t have to go far if he threw up again. </p><p>“Are you okay,” Focusing on signing as he spoke helped keep his jittering hands steady, “Are you hurt?” </p><p>Charles looked surprised. ‘No hurt.’ </p><p>Something in Henry’s chest eased. He nodded. </p><p>He was very close to asking something he both needed to know and desperately didn’t want to. Henry took a shaking, shuddery breath, but Charles himself changed the subject. </p><p>‘Sign’ </p><p>“What?” Henry continued to sign as he spoke, hopefully giving Charles more to work with. </p><p>Charles spelled out words again in front of him in large invisible letters. </p><p>S-W-E-A-R. </p><p>Ah. </p><p>Henry cracked a smile for the first time in days, shaking his head. It’s what everyone wanted to know, the only thing his peers had been interested in. How do you swear in sign language? </p><p>He didn't normally indulge the dumb curiosity, but he was tired and needed to rest and maybe this would entertain Charles somewhat. Since he asked. </p><p>“Watch,” He ordered, and proceeded to sign as well:</p><p>“Bitch.” </p><p>‘Bitch.’ </p><p>“Whore.” </p><p>‘Whore.”</p><p>“Shit. Shithead.” </p><p>‘Shit. Shit. Shit?’</p><p>Henry showed him again. </p><p>‘Shithead.’  </p><p>“Fuck you is the same.” </p><p>Charles happily demonstrated. </p><p>“Asshole.” </p><p>Inaudible, Charles cracked up. He laughed, shoulders shaking, a hand covering his mouth. </p><p>Henry felt his lips curl without his permission, a softness settling in his chest. Charles was leaning back against the wall, legs outstretched, happily signing to Henry who now sat on his sink counter. </p><p>‘Asshole,’ Charles’ signed, eyes sparkling mischievously as he turned it into something even more... explicit.</p><p>Henry burst into laughter. </p><p>Charles was beaming, all handsome high cheekbones and playfulness. Oh god, yes. This looked so much like him that it sent an ache rippling through Henry’s body, a sad sort of longing that was unfamiliar. </p><p>He had the weird urge to hug him. He tried to push the thought away. Not like he was <em>really</em> Charles, after all, and he couldn't touch him anyway. </p><p>“That’s enough,” Henry said, “You’re not going to remember all this.” </p><p>Charles raised his eyebrows. “I understand, you shithead bitch.” </p><p>“Stop,” Henry rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth to mask the exhausted amusement. “You don’t get to use that on me.” </p><p>‘Yes,’ Charles’ eyes were soft. ‘I understand.’ </p><p>A quiet settled over the bathroom. Henry had stopped sopping in his own nervous sweat. Charles looked less high strung and dazed. Still, the clawing anxiety was still in Henry's stomach and he needed more space. </p><p>Yeah, it was time to end this. Enough was enough, and he needed to stop himself before he went plummeting over that mental cliff again. Not anymore, no, he had this wisp, this leftover mark of Charles, and he could make this work. Things were better. He could do this. </p><p>He didn't beckon to the ghost because he knew it would follow him. </p><p>He pulled back his blankets, not looking at Charles. He could almost feel the other, hovering close, curiosity pouring off his expression. </p><p>"I need to sleep," Henry told him, not turning around. "I...haven't been." </p><p>Not well. Not since it happened. But today, he might be able to. He'd try, anyway, but he needed the...it had to...if he stayed too close...</p><p>'I don't understand,' Charles' body popped into his vision, nearly crawling on the bed. </p><p>"Off," Henry demanded, like he were ordering away a dog, and the pilot drew himself up. </p><p>Did he not get it? Was gawking at him as he woke up screaming not get through his head? The scratch marks on his skin from feeling like he was suffocating, the humiliating, heartfelt <em>sobbing</em>? </p><p>"I just...I don't need much," He awkwardly tried to explain, "I just want...to sleep. Please." </p><p>'Please' Wasn't something in Henry's vocabulary, but it slipped past his lips without his permission. He watched Charles' shoulders slump in defeat, and the other trudged away off into his little corner. </p><p>Henry watched him, fingers curling into his fists, feeling like he'd fucked up again. </p><p>God, he missed when he didn't have the ability to feel. When he could fly through life without ever caring if he hurt other people's feelings. Would he have even cared, back then, if Charles had died for him while Henry was still young and carefree and self absorbed? </p><p>Unfortunately, he knew the answer. </p><p>Somewhere, a switch had been flipped in his brain. Like suddenly he'd been made aware of other people reacting to his words, actions, and most of the time he still didn't give a fuck but he'd never been so hyper fucking aware before. With Charles, it was magnified tenfold. Even this shadow of him made Henry feel guilty. Just sitting there, like a lone orphan. </p><p>Fuck, he hated everything right about now. He needed to steal something. Set a room of Toppat intel on fire. Something. </p><p>"I can't stand you," Henry told the thing, sighing with his entire soul. "So sit on the couch or something. Just don't come over here." </p><p>He wasn't waking to that face ever again. It made it worse. </p><p>He tried not to notice Charles hop up, purposely tried not to look at him at all, and crawled into his sheets. </p><p>He was so drained. And they had a huge chunk of time before the next mission, thanks to Ellie. </p><p>Oh, fuck. Ellie. </p><p>Henry grumbled unkind things under his breath. He'd probably pay for his short words earlier today. He didn't trust her at all. Something about her was shifty, even for a thief. He didn't expect her 'gratitude' to save him for whatever temper lay under her cool indifference. </p><p>Henry suddenly sat up, so quick it startled the specter on the couch. </p><p>'Thank you,' Henry signed, "For...Ellie. Helping her." </p><p>Charles' petulant expression softened. He nodded, begrudgingly, far less cheerful. Henry settled back down. </p><p>His eyes told Henry he wasn't happy with him, but the other tried not to think about it too much. It wasn't <em>really</em> him, after all, not really. It was okay. Charles was probably just bored. Maybe he'd take a walk tomorrow. Let the thing outside. </p><p>He was going to have to come up with a better cover story than 'cat', too, because if anyone suspected Henry was losing his mind...</p><p>He took a breath, slowly. No, remember. This is better. Cover story, keep talking to this wisp of a man so they could finish the missions, keep it all together. Maybe with this thing they could finish early. Pay his debt and be done with it. </p><p>Henry drifted off to sleep instead of fell into it, watched carefully over by a resigned, tired-looking ghost.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Cats, dog tags, and douchebags</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Outdoors is nice.’ </p><p>“Yeah,” Henry told the specter beside him, who was happily keeping pace with the thief as they strode around the base. “Nice out.”</p><p>‘Very nice.’ </p><p>He looked happier. The shadow of Charles did. He looked around, hands in ghostly pockets, so close that if he’d been corporeal he’d he bumping into Henry’s shoulder. </p><p>He’d feel better if he were occupied with not running into him. As it were, he tried to avoid eye contact with soldiers around base and kept his head down. Even wearing his military jacket, he stuck out like a sore thumb out here. Everyone knew who he was. </p><p>Henry hated it. But Charles had been looking antsy, anxious, pacing around silently until it drove Henry crazy. So they were taking a walk. The pilot’s clear joy almost made it worth it. </p><p>He tugged the jacket a little tighter around him, wondering if he’d lost weight. Probably. He didn’t remember the last time he sat down and ate something. That was bound to do something, he supposed.</p><p>Neither of them spoke. Henry was sweating, despite feeling cold, still afraid to look too long into the others face or breach a topic he didn’t want to talk about. </p><p>It wasn’t <em>really</em> Charles, anyway. Just a ghost of a man. A leftover energy. But he’d still treat him with respect. It was a shadow of his friend, after all. Least he could do was go for a walk with them and make them a little happier. </p><p>Still. Henry shoved his hands in his pockets, watching the other try to step on leaves scattering the ground. They didn’t so much as rustle. </p><p>Henry’s fingers touched cold metal. </p><p>His brows furrowed. Wasn’t coins. </p><p>As Charles hopped like a toddler, determination on his face, Henry pulled out from his pocket two rectangular metal pieces strung on a ball chain. </p><p>They clinked together, no silencers on the tags like he knew Charles wore his, safely under his shirt to “not look like a douchebag”. A spare pair. </p><p>It was his, it said so, and Henry’s eyes couldn’t leave the words. </p><p>Charles himself had come over, curious, as Henry gently thumbed over the words. </p><p>He hadn’t taken dog tags. He didn’t remember, anyway. </p><p>“I didn’t steal these,” He told Charles. He didn’t know if they were sensitive things to have or what. </p><p>Charles tilted his head at him, oddly, gestured at his chest. </p><p>Henry looked down, pulling the material out. </p><p>Stitched into the coat, where Henry’s coat bore his own name, were the letters C. CALVIN and a symbol Henry didn’t recognize. </p><p>He’d grabbed the wrong jacket. No wonder it had fit him so loosely in the shoulders, Charles was broader, almost soft in places where Henry was compact and wiry. </p><p>He twisted his fingers into the material of the coat, the loose cloth, swallowing. </p><p>The pilot watched him, lips and hands unmoving, peering at him carefully like he was waiting. </p><p>Henry stared. “I didn’t take them.” </p><p>He hadn’t checked the pockets. He just picked a coat that looked less used. He should have noticed the damaged sleeves, the burns on the shoulders. How had he missed it?</p><p>But Charles was shaking his head. </p><p>‘Take,’ he signed, expression soft. ‘Yours.’ </p><p>His. Henry’s fingers closed over the metal, keeping eye contact. An invisible wind was picking at Charles’ hair, something Henry couldn’t feel. </p><p>‘Thank you,’ Henry signed quickly, knowing he’d look odder signing to nothing than talking, but the words were vulnerable. </p><p>‘You’re welcome,’ Charles mirrored the gesture. </p><p>They kept looking at one another. </p><p>Henry felt restless. Like something was trying to wriggle into his memory, remind him of something to say, but while Charles waited patiently he just couldn’t come up with it. </p><p>He should say something here. Henry shifted, boots scuffling the leaves below. Why had his heart seized up like this?</p><p>Something prickled at the back of his neck. Henry whirled, meeting the gaze of Ellie Rose. </p><p>Her eyes flit from his face to the ripped jacket. His hand, the chain dangling from between his fingers. Henry hastily stuffed it in his pocket. </p><p>Her lips pressed together, red as her hair, and the sullen expression eased a little. </p><p>“Hey,” she said, scarf around her neck and hands in her jacket pockets. Her shoulder was hidden, Henry wondered if it was still damaged. “Wondered if you were still around.” </p><p>Where else would he be? Henry shrugged, and in his side vision, Charles waved at her unseen. </p><p>Something about that struck Henry as funny. He cracked a slight smile, deciding to be less annoyed with Ellie this go around. </p><p>“How’s your cat?” The girl asked, and Henry almost forgot what she was talking about. </p><p>“Oh,” Henry thought quickly, “It...ran away.” </p><p>Charles wrinkled his nose. </p><p>Well, he almost said the thing died, so Charles had no right to complain. </p><p>“Oh,” Ellie’s brows furrowed. “That sucks.” </p><p>“Yeah.” </p><p>“Want me to help you look for it?”</p><p>For a cat that didn’t exist? No. The career thief didn’t move a muscle. </p><p>“It was Charles’ cat,” He lied easily, “Not mine.” </p><p>Charles signed something about not dragging him into this. </p><p>Ellie’s expression went from mild interest to full bodied concern. </p><p>“Hey, it’s fine,” She said, taking her hands out of her pockets, lifting them soothingly, “I’ll help you look. Where did you last see them?” </p><p>God fucking dammit, Ellie Rose, don’t try to be a nice person. </p><p>Henry’s jaw clenched. “You don’t have to-”</p><p>“Yeah, I know that,” Ellie said easily. “Come on, Stickmin. Where did it go?”</p><p>Uhh. Henry struggled, rubbing his thumbs over fingertips, pulling ripped sleeves down over his hands. </p><p>Charles was standing next to him, chin over his shoulder, fingers tugging absently at fabric he couldn’t touch. </p><p>Okay. Fake cat. Where would cat go? Charles’ cat. </p><p>“The hangar,” Henry made up on the fly and was forced to lead the way. </p><p>Ellie, thankfully, didn’t say another word. She just followed, unknowingly the third member in this posse. Charles stayed next to Henry as always, hand absently trying to grab onto his sleeves. </p><p>The other thief was being annoyingly gentle with him. </p><p>I mean, he knew how it must look. </p><p>He was wearing Charles’ coat, clinging to his dog tags, walking alone “looking for a cat” that runs away and belonged to his friend. She felt sorry for him, of course. </p><p>Annoying. </p><p>“This is it,” Henry could find his way here in his sleep. The hangar towered over them, doors closed but with a side door nestled out of sight. </p><p>It was locked also, but locked doors meant nearly nothing to two career thieves. </p><p>“What color cat?” Ellie asked Henry, “He or she?”</p><p>“If you see any cat,” Henry said blandly, over his shoulder, “Just tell me.” </p><p>She looked annoyed and Henry was unbothered. He walked to the other end of the hangar, far enough away that he could speak to Charles without sounding overly crazy. </p><p>‘Be nice,’ Charles was signing to him, unamused. ‘She’s helping.’ </p><p>“She’s nosy,” Henry muttered to him. “She needs to leave me alone.” </p><p>Charles bit his lip, then, a visible wince. </p><p>‘Worry.’ </p><p>He looked tentative as he signed it. </p><p>“It’s none of her business,” Henry rubbed his face. “It isn’t.” </p><p>Charles flapped his hands slightly, gritting his teeth.  </p><p>He saw his name being said, and Henry shouldered ahead. </p><p>There was a tension between him and Charles. He could feel it, stinging all the time against his skin. Catching between their gazes, hovering between them until one of them reached for it.</p><p>It wouldn’t be Henry.</p><p>Charles had words now but neither of them were talking about what probably lived in each other’s minds every waking moment-</p><p>Henry slowed, coming to a full stop. </p><p>He stared up at the large piece of machinery, something he recognized, something he’d been in before. </p><p>Charles’ helicopter. That was the number, he’d committed that to memory. Just in case he had to tell which one was friend or foe in the future. </p><p>Henry took a few small steps, reaching, pressing his palm against the cool metal. </p><p>It wasn’t dirty. Either they were using it or upkeeping it, because it has been a while since it’s pilot had sat at the controls. </p><p>Henry smoothed his hand over the side, fingertips skimming the seam in the metal. </p><p>He turned, where he knew Charles would be. </p><p>The man stood, staring up, expression devastated. </p><p>His lips were parted, visible breaths heaving his chest. </p><p>Henry watched him, took in the expression, the hurt in his eyes and the furrow between his brows. </p><p>Henry reached for the handle of the door, pulling it open, making Charles’ gaze jerk back to him. </p><p>The two looked at each other, Charles chewing on his lip. </p><p>“Come on,” Henry said gently, and stepped inside. </p><p>Oh yeah. He remembered this. Charles darted past him to throw himself into the pilot seat, hands flexing uselessly at the controls. </p><p>Henry walked to a seat near where he’d waken up, staring at the spot. </p><p>It felt like a lifetime ago. He’d been a lot more bitter back then. Felt something besides tired despair all the time. Henry leaned back, remembering the groggy awakening. The terror when he realized he was kidnapped, the irritation at being caught. </p><p>Hearing a lazy voice in his ears, helpfully guiding him the best he could. Completing anything Henry needed, no arguments or control. </p><p>Yeah. He’d liked the guy just a little, even from the beginning. </p><p>Charles was sitting in the seat, staring out the front. Henry stared at the back of his head, pulling at the frayed cuffs of his jacket. </p><p>“Hey!” </p><p>That wasn’t Ellie. </p><p>Henry narrowed his eyes. Charles jolted like he’d been shocked. </p><p>He stood, moving to the entrance to the helicopter, staring down a man. </p><p>Tall, burly, dark hair and light eyes. He raised his eyebrows, and his scowl turned to a sharp sort of smile immediately. </p><p>Yeah, didn’t like this guy. </p><p>“Liam,” The man extended a hand, “Warrant Officer Liam Rogers.” </p><p>Henry ignored the hand, nodding once in recognition. </p><p>He had the same symbol on his jacket as Charles. No headphones. A weapon at his side, where Charles had usually left his holster empty.</p><p>“Sorry, Stickmin,” the guy said, leaning back against a plane’s wing, “thought someone was messing around back here.” </p><p>He had a chiseled jaw, was buff as hell, handsome in a roughened type way. Gym rat. He was sizing Henry up, lingering a little too much. He also wore his dog tags on the outside of his shirt. </p><p>“I’ve been meaning to come find you,” Liam told Henry, “Been meaning to ask you about Charles.” </p><p>Henry instinctively looked over at the subject of this conversation. </p><p>Charles was not moving. His face was turned away from him. </p><p>He looked back at the other guy, who settled himself on the wing. </p><p>“Look,” The officer said, deeply, serious, “I just want to know what happened.” </p><p>Henry’s jaw was hard to open. “I gave a statement.” </p><p>“Oh!” The man laughed, shaking his head. “No, no, not as an official thing. As someone who knew him. I wanted to know what actually happened to him, up there.” </p><p>Henry debated slamming the door shut. He shook his head, carefully, jaw set. No. </p><p>Liam looked him over, eyes crafty. </p><p>He was going to push. Henry took a breath, unwilling to step closer to him, trapped. </p><p>“I get where you’re coming from,” he said, soothing, smile not reaching his eyes. “Look, Charles was special, right?”</p><p>Henry narrowed his eyes. </p><p>“Look, it was a thing with us,” Liam waved a hand, “Everyone knows that. He outflew me and we had a...like a blowing off steam kinda thing, right?”</p><p>Henry withdrew back so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. He whipped his head over. </p><p>Charles was clinging to the back of his seat, staring in horror. </p><p>Oh. There was truth to this. </p><p>Henry felt nauseated, knowing Charles was there listening. He didn’t know what to say, kept gaping like a fish. </p><p>“It turned more hateful near the end. I broke it off with the guy, he was getting clingy, that wasn’t what we agreed to-”</p><p>Charles came flying into the doorway, clinging to it like he might be ripped away, fury taking over horror. </p><p>Was he shaking?</p><p>“Stop.” </p><p>Liam looked up at Henry’s demand, taking in the now open anger lining the thief’s face. </p><p>He took him in again, more slowly, eyes lingering on the name stitched into his jacket. </p><p>“I think you have the wrong idea,” the guy soothed. “He wasn’t my type.” </p><p>Charles flinched. </p><p>“Little too naive. Flighty. Not a ton going on upstairs, alright, he was a good guy but he just wasn’t-” </p><p>Henry was too furious to speak. </p><p>He stepped off the helicopter, hands shaking in fists near his sides. </p><p>Liam unwisely followed. </p><p>“Hey, hey, relax, buddy, don’t get all stirred up over this.” </p><p>Henry turned on his heel, silent, fluid. He looked Liam in the eyes, dead and prettily icy blue. Charles was as far away as Henry had ever seen, dragging hands through his hair in anguish. </p><p>“Don't stir me up,” Henry said icily. “Why would I tell you anything?”</p><p>“Look,” Liam said, stepping closer, “I just knew the guy. I’m just letting you know whatever it was, it was casual. No need to get riled.” </p><p>The fuck was he on. That didn’t explain why he was talking badly about Charles. </p><p>“Just tell me,” Liam said, “How’d he really get left behind?” </p><p>Henry grit his teeth. “Fuck off.” </p><p>“Look, we both had a thing for the guy, right? Man to man, I just wanna know what went down.”</p><p>“Go look at the files,” Henry told him coldly as Ellie popped her head over the wing of a plane. “That should tell you.” </p><p>Liam shook his head, smiling crookedly. Charmingly. </p><p>“I know those files aren’t exactly right,” he said gently. “They missed a lot of stuff. Some stuff sounds off.” </p><p>Ellie was motioning to him. Henry ignored her. </p><p>“Like what?” He asked the taller man. Daring him. </p><p>“It said he pushed you in and the doors just...closed.” </p><p>Strong arms around his middle, bodily heaving him from the floor to safety. </p><p>Taking down the Toppat that grabbed Henry at the expense of his own life. He could still feel those arms around him.</p><p>“And?” Henry snapped. </p><p>Liam looked derisive. </p><p>“I’m not saying you’re lying,” The other pilot said, “but did you embellish that? No way he’d just...” </p><p>Toss away his life? He had. Henry saw it every night. </p><p>“Back off,” He warned him, keeping him in sight as he backed away again. </p><p>No way was he turning his back on this man.</p><p>As predicted, Liam followed. Charles was somewhere Henry couldn’t see. </p><p>“Henry, I knew that man,” Liam said, smile tight. “He didn’t act like a soldier.” </p><p>The breath left Henry’s lungs. </p><p>“He got his position because he knew the General,” The brunet said, striding forward as he spoke, “He relied on relationships to build himself up. And oh, now he’s an ace pilot, now he’s covert ops, now he’s a hero, let’s just...dump his helicopter in a museum or something, right?” </p><p>Henry kept backing away, avoiding aircrafts, shaking. </p><p>“There’s no way he actually did that. Not the guy I knew. He was enthusiastic, yeah, but not a real soldier.” </p><p>“Go fuck yourself,” Henry told him, grinding his teeth together. </p><p>“But you think he was the best too, right?” Liam mocked, head tilting, “He’s appealing at first, yeah, but if you all would quit idolizing the guy and just admit what a-”</p><p>Henry’s hands fisted into the others coat before he even knew what was happening. </p><p>He was going to hurt him. </p><p>He was going to cause him pain. </p><p>Liams smile turned manic, like he was excited for it, and Henry was going to smear his face across the concrete. </p><p>He was bodily tackled, knees buckling beneath him, and his vision was filled with bright red. </p><p>Ellie was stronger than she looked, slamming Henry down and not letting him back up. </p><p>“You better get out of here,” She warned Liam, spitting out red hair where it clung to her lipstick. “I mean it.” </p><p>“Well now I need to go make a report,” The pilot smiled, knife sharp and unfriendly. “I was attacked.” </p><p>“Yeah, well go do it,” Ellie eased up on Henry. “I hope you know how much that fucking hurt my shoulder, you idiot.” </p><p>Henry couldn’t speak. </p><p>“I know you’re upset. You shouldn’t have gone for him, I think he wanted that in the end when you weren’t going to tell him what he wanted.” </p><p>Henry could see Charles from this angle, cross legged and with his head in his hands. </p><p>He really knew little about him. What kind of person he was, what his past had been. But he knew some, knew what he’d done, and how selflessly he’d done it. </p><p>“He wasn’t stupid,” Henry said, staring at Charles. “He was a great pilot.” </p><p>The ghost shifted, like he was listening. He might be. Henry took a shuddering breath. </p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“He was brave,” Henry told the specter, desperately. “He was a hero, up there. With me.” </p><p>“I know, Henry.” </p><p>Charles looked at him, tired, from yards away, both of them on the dirty hangar floor. </p><p>“I’ll kill that guy,” Henry said, solemn. A promise. </p><p>Charles looked back down at his hands. </p><p>“And I’ll help you bury the body, Henry, but you need to pull it together,” Ellie said. </p><p>Henry exhaled. The woman let him up, and Henry picked himself off the ground. </p><p>He was a hero. He had been courageous, selfless, had thrown himself into danger for someone that didn’t deserve it. </p><p>Charles. He wasn’t looking at him, Henry needed him to look at him. Ellie was here, listening, watching, and he couldn’t approach him. </p><p>He followed him everywhere, would he follow him back home? </p><p>“I want to go home,” Henry said, staring at the ghost, and Ellie walked with him back to the apartments.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for errors, this was typed on my sister’s demon iPad</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Giving of Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rain was pouring down the windows, streaking the dirt-covered glass and filling Henry’s apartment with a soft pattering noise. </p><p>It was soothing, in a way, or would be in any other context. Henry couldn’t possibly enjoy it right now, still wrapped up in Charles’ coat and ruffling through papers in his kitchen. </p><p>Charles was sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, propping up his face as he stared blankly into the opposing wall. </p><p>Henry picked up a piece of paper, looking for a pen next, feeling about six seconds from throwing up. Liam’s hideously handsome face still shadowed his memory, triumphant at getting a reaction from the thief. </p><p>He was going to pay for that later. Ellie warned him of that before she left him at his doorstep. He was going to make trouble. </p><p>Let him. Not like Henry couldn’t take down Toppat bases without the government, he could steal the docs he needed and be gone in under an hour. There was no reason to stay. The only reason he’d been here at all seemed to follow him around. </p><p>Except for right now, where the specter wouldn’t come anywhere near him. Avoided his gaze. </p><p>He looked so empty. He seemed to have aged since they walked out to the hangar, more tired and solemn than Henry had ever seen. Even worse than when he’d re-met the man before that last, disastrous mission. </p><p>Henry’s fingers hit something that rolled away from him. He pulled out a sharpie and pulled the cap off with his teeth. </p><p>The wisp of a man didn’t even look at him when he approached. Henry crouched next to the couch, beginning to draw out the alphabet. </p><p>He could feel Charles’ gaze slowly shift, burn into his neck as he pressed the felt pen against paper. He didn’t look up. Not yet, not until he was done. </p><p>Not great. But doable. Henry left the paper next to him, dropping himself on the couch next to him. </p><p>Charles was shiftily looking between him and the paper, visibly chewing his lip, fingers fidgeting. </p><p>“Use it,” Henry forced the words past his teeth. “Talk.” </p><p>He wasn’t going to cripple the man, he knew what it felt like to not be able to get his entire, coherent thoughts out when confronted with something huge. </p><p>Charles’ eyes flit back down. Stayed there. With a hesitant hand, he tapped out letter by letter. </p><p>O-U-I-J-A</p><p>He looked questioning. Henry added a question mark to the paper. </p><p>There, a soft flit that might have been a smile. </p><p>O-U-I-J-A-?</p><p>‘No,’ Henry signed. “You don’t know enough sign.” </p><p>Charles stared at him, hollow. </p><p>Huh. Henry swallowed, staring back at the man. He had expected him to start babbling immediately, to have to try and keep up with his scrambling words as he explained what happened back there. </p><p>The pilot was silent and still, waiting like he expected Henry to do something terrible. </p><p>The thief licked his lips. </p><p>‘Who is Liam,’ Henry signed, taking the plunge. </p><p>Charles closed his eyes, a furrow appearing between his brows. </p><p>If Henry had been a kinder person, he might have said he didn’t have to tell him. No. Henry needed to know who this man was, and then he was going to make his life miserable. If he ever saw his stupid face again, he’d better hope Ellie was around to stop Henry a second time. </p><p>FLING. Charles winced. REBOUND OFF A GUY I LIKED. </p><p>Henry nodded, ignoring the pounding of his heart against his ribcage. </p><p>IT WASN’T LIKE WHAT HE SAID. </p><p>“I figured that,” Henry muttered. Charles’ white-knuckled grip on the back of the seat had told him that even without words. </p><p>So far, he’d learned nothing that he hadn’t figured out when Liam approached him. </p><p>The guy didn’t like Charles. Wanted him to look bad. Had some kind of relationship with the guy, which was honestly fucking with his head. </p><p>He hadn’t even considered the idea Charles was into guys. He struck Henry as entirely heterosexual, forgive his assumptions, and it was messing him up somehow. Why that was giving him such fucking anxiety, he didn’t even-</p><p>HENRY</p><p>Seeing Charles tap out his name made him feel weird. Like something was liquidating inside of him, threatening to tear him to bits. </p><p>I’M SORRY</p><p>Henry flinched, gritting his teeth. He’d rather Charles just punch him, it would hurt fucking less. </p><p>“Don’t,” Henry snapped at the pilot, quiet voice raising to harsh levels. “There’s nothing- you don’t-”</p><p>The words wouldn’t form on his tongue. Henry was shivering. He was angry. </p><p>Charles was watching him, less frantic this time, still chewing on his lip and peering at Henry like he was judging his every expression. </p><p>Maybe he was. Henry always had this creeping feeling that Charles could read past his impassive face eerily well. </p><p>“Why does he hate you so much?” Henry asked bluntly, and it was Charles’ turn to flinch. </p><p>I FINALLY CALLED IT OFF, The pilot admitted, REALIZED HE WAS MAKING A FOOL OUT OF ME. </p><p>Henry stayed quiet. </p><p>I LIKED HIM. Charles wrung his hands, staring down at the paper without seeing it. Tapped out letters more slowly. HANDSOME. NICE. TOLD ME I WAS-</p><p>He stopped, hand poised in the air, face devoid of color. </p><p>Henry watched, didn’t press. Didn’t rush him. Shrank against the opposite arm of the couch, hands concealed inside the oversize jacket. </p><p>Charles didn’t continue that train of thought, but he did grit his teeth and start over. </p><p>I KNOW WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE. </p><p>Henry didn’t get the opportunity to even think of a response before Charles continued. </p><p>BUT I’M NOT NAIVE. </p><p>Henry’s eyes flit up. Charles wasn’t looking at him, was pointedly looking down, just less devastated before and more upset. </p><p>“Manipu-” Henry shrank back from the vicious look Charles shot him, words dying on his tongue at the absolute <em>hate</em> suddenly in his eyes. </p><p>To his credit, the pilot backpedaled as soon as he saw the look of genuine hurt. </p><p>‘Sorry,’ Charles signed, expression suddenly frantic. ‘Sorry. Sorry. You, you. Talk. I’m sorry.’ </p><p>Henry shook his head. </p><p>He was going to say that manipulation wasn’t just for the naïve. Henry would not say he himself was any sort of naïve. Maybe a little short on everyday skills and a chunk of knowledge most normal people entered the world knowing, but not naïve. </p><p>He’d been manipulated a handful of times. He learned from the best, after all. </p><p>Charles worried his lip between his teeth. </p><p>Neither of them continued the conversation. Both were waiting, trying to keep even their breathing quiet lest it disturb the other. Henry was sick to his stomach. Charles never looked at him like that, even when frustrated at him. </p><p>God. </p><p>‘I really don’t know you,’ Henry signed without looking directly at him but he still caught the flinch in the corner of his vision. </p><p>He didn’t. He didn’t know why the fuck Charles would do all the things he did for him, he didn’t know who the hell he was. Hadn’t known he was into guys, had a past with what Henry was pinning as an abusive ex, hadn’t even known he was in the Army until he’d been caught up in this all as an agent. Though to be fair, all branches of the military seemed the same to him. </p><p>‘But I have met Liams,’ Henry wasn’t sure how much Charles was understanding but he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. ‘Known lots. Knew what kind of man he was walking in.’ </p><p>He hadn’t called what he and other ‘Liams’ had done dating, but he wasn’t about to make that distinction. </p><p>He’d learned as a young man what kind of person that was, and no, Charles might not be naïve but he was incredibly trusting. Willing to sacrifice. He could see someone like Charles being manipulated by someone like that. Who didn’t care how much they took, what they destroyed, if it benefited them. </p><p>Charles wasn’t moving, so Henry continued his thought. </p><p>‘You aren’t alone.’ </p><p>Henry let his hands fall back into his lap, keeping his eyes on the paper and nothing else. </p><p>He wasn’t good at this kind of thing. Look, he just wanted to get dirt on the guy and go, he hadn’t- he didn’t know what to <em>do</em> when people were upset, or what to say, felt terrible even trying this badly. </p><p>HE WAS ANGRY. I WAS A BETTER PILOT. </p><p>Henry watched the words, silent. Just listening. </p><p>USED ME THE WHOLE TIME. MADE HIM FEEL BETTER TO HAVE SOMETHING OVER ME. </p><p>Oh, now that made sense. Henry swallowed, feeling a little bit of tension leave his aching shoulders. Jealousy over Charles’ success would definitely line up with what he told Henry. About climbing upwards due to his connections. </p><p>Couldn’t stand that Charles was just better than him. </p><p>God, how you could be angry at Charles for being just generally excellent was fucking beyond Henry. </p><p>He wanted to say something like that. Tell him that he deserved his position and even Henry could see that. Reiterate the desperate words he’d vomited in the hangar, about Charles being clever. Brave. Something he had read in Charles’ mannerisms and body like they were lines in a page. </p><p>Instead, he opened his stupid mouth and said: </p><p>“He wore his dog tags outside his shirt.” </p><p>At first, Charles looked bewildered. Nodded, slowly, confused, until realization dawned. </p><p>The slow smile that spread over his lips might as well have been sunshine. </p><p>YOU REMEMBER. </p><p>Charles’ expression melted into sheer fondness, so warm it nearly knocked Henry over. </p><p>Yeah, he remembered their little conversation, what felt like a lifetime ago. </p><p>“The douchebags always wear their tags outside their shirts,” Henry repeated, voice warbling strangely, wet and flittering. </p><p>Charles laughed, soundless, lips trembling. </p><p>The man’s smile twisted into something ugly, and he turned, wiping at his eyes. </p><p>Henry watched the shuddering of his chest, biting the inside of his cheek just to feel enough pain to distract him from following suit. </p><p>For a moment, it was like a blanket of clarity. Him, reaching skeletal thinness, bags under his eyes and a gaunt, haunted face, and the too-cheery ghost with a strained smile and something wildly disconnected in his eyes. </p><p>They were fucked up. </p><p>Both of them. </p><p>Henry’s meaner nature wanted to snatch that paper away. Crumple it, toss it, but Charles was sobbing his heart out on his couch and he couldn’t take words away from him once they’d been given. He’d known that from the beginning. </p><p>He was a cruel, evil sort of person, and Charles would like him well about the same as Liam if he knew. </p><p>Henry cracked the knuckles in his fingers, focusing on the sensation. The noise. God, he needed to steal something. They needed to put him on a case, a heist, something, why was all he did just fucking lie around and wait for-</p><p>Both he and Charles jumped when someone slammed on his front door. </p><p>They stood as one being, fluid and alert, Henry braced to run and Charles braced to fight. </p><p>There was a pause. Another slam, singular, punctuated by a frustrated curse. </p><p>Henry’s shoulders drooped. </p><p>Fucking Christ. </p><p>He didn’t dare look at Charles’ face as he moved past, moving around the ghost even though he knew he couldn’t physically disturb it. </p><p>Henry yanked the door open, intending to snap at Ellie Rose just to take out his unhappy feelings on her, and his jaw dropped instead. </p><p>“Surprise, Stickman,” The thief crowed, holding up a tiny grey kitten wrapped in a purple jacket, “Outside the dumpster of the hangar, like you’d said.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Cat Supplies and Thanks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, congrats. You reached the one chapter where nothing too angsty happens!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Henry tromped back into the apartment three hours later, soaked, Ellie shoving past him to get out of the rain first. </p>
<p>“It’s not wonder she ran away before, Stickman,” She told him, “You’re telling me you had <em>nothing</em>-”</p>
<p>Charles stayed next to Henry but crouched, eye level with one of his pockets, delight filling his face as a tiny head peeped out. </p>
<p>He didn’t know what to do. He stood, dripping water on his floor, holding three bags from a pet food store and staring blankly at a nearby wall. </p>
<p>“-food, not to mention a box, and toys, even we gave our cat something to play with.” </p>
<p>Charles had been reaching for the kitten all this time, happily wriggling his fingers around it even as it steadily ignored him, but Henry felt the little thing freeze in his pockets suddenly. </p>
<p>He looked down, seeing the little thing bush up, and when Charles brushed over her head, Henry felt a weird sensation through the coat. Like he’d moved it. </p>
<p>Charles stopped, watching the kitten, then slowly looking up. </p>
<p>Henry stared down, dark eyes flitting between Charles’, a question resting in both their gazes. </p>
<p>He reached a bag-laden hand out, offering, and Charles tried to touch him. </p>
<p>Nothing, nada, and now Ellie was staring at him again. </p>
<p>He turned around, mindful of his passenger, met the woman’s eyes. </p>
<p>She was looking a little too thoughtful for his comfort levels, eyes narrowed, but she smoothed the look over in a way that was practiced. Worrying. </p>
<p>“Tell me again,” She asked, her knife-sharp smile spread over colored lips, “What you named her?” </p>
<p>Nope. They weren’t doing this again. </p>
<p>“Picasso,” Henry said sullenly. It was what he should have said, instead of blurting out whatever Charles frantically tapped out on the paper as a cover story. </p>
<p>Ellie raised an eyebrow, smirking all the wider. </p>
<p>No, he was not taking the blame for that stupid shit. </p>
<p>“<em>Charles</em> named her,” Henry mumbled. </p>
<p>Ellie relented, then, making grabby hands towards Henry’s jacket. </p>
<p>Hastily, he dropped the bags, tentatively reaching for the fuzzy little thing happily riding along in the pockets of Charles’ jacket. </p>
<p>It was purring before he even picked it up, unbothered, a tiny and skinny little thing. Funny. He’d handled priceless jewels and temperamental security devices with these hands and he was terrified of being too rough with this thing. It made his normally surgeon-steady hands shake. </p>
<p>It didn’t seem to mind, as he set it on the floor it immediately trotted over to rub against Henry’s boots. </p>
<p>“She really likes you,” Ellie said softly, “I can tell you have a bond.” </p>
<p>Henry had never seen this cat in his life. He didn’t know why it liked him, it was freaking him out a little. </p>
<p>Charles was patting the ground, more or less begging it to come over, and Ellie made a weird hissing sound that got it’s attention immediately. </p>
<p>“C’mere Purr-Catso,” She called, and it happily bounded over. </p>
<p>Henry could feel his face twitch. </p>
<p>“Don’t call it that.” </p>
<p>“It’s her name,” Ellie scratched Picasso’s ears and the cat bumped her head into her hand, “Got to respect the name, Henry, come on.” </p>
<p>Henry sent a scathing side-glare to Charles, who at least had the decency to look apologetic. </p>
<p>“He must’ve had a sense of humor.” </p>
<p>Henry felt ice shoot through his veins. “Huh?” </p>
<p>“Charles.” </p>
<p>Charles himself pursed his lips, looking up at Henry like he was an unstable material. Could blow at any second. </p>
<p>No, no. This was fine. Henry tried to shut down everything else but an answer to a simple question. </p>
<p>“Eh.” </p>
<p>Charles’ jaw dropped, and he might actually have laughed. He pressed a hand firmly against his chest, offended, grinning broadly. </p>
<p>Alright. Henry’s lips twitched. “Maybe.” </p>
<p>Charles made a face at him. Henry turned away to hide his smile, inadvertently giving Ellie a pretty good look at it. </p>
<p>Her expression was impassive but her gaze was analytical. Henry made sure to wipe his own immediately. </p>
<p>“Who…” Ellie was treating him carefully again, which was pissing him right off, “Was Charles? I mean, I know he was a pilot, some kind of special one I guess?” </p>
<p>Charles sat onto the ground, looking perturbed. </p>
<p>“But I mean...who was he?” </p>
<p><em>None of your business</em> was almost hissed through his teeth before someone’s face flashed in front of Henry’s eyes. </p>
<p>A handsome, sneering face, spitting all kinds of things Ellie had to have heard if she was that close. She had to remember, too. Henry could taste those words, still. </p>
<p>Naive. </p>
<p>Flighty. </p>
<p>Didn’t deserve his position. </p>
<p>Not a real soldier. </p>
<p>Appealing at first. Something to throw away. </p>
<p>“He…” </p>
<p>He swallowed down the bile in his throat. </p>
<p>“I trusted Charles,” Henry’s voice was so quiet he wasn’t sure Ellie heard it. “He was...easy to trust. Even if you were people like...”</p>
<p>He gestured between him and Ellie. </p>
<p>“And he trusted you too, huh?” Ellie sat on the floor, letting Picasso rub against her jacket, getting it covered in grey fur. </p>
<p>Had to have, didn’t he? Just tossed Henry right into that ship and offered all the help he could. Tell me what you need, buddy. </p>
<p>“He’d help you however he could, but he knew how to ask for help,” The sentence frothed from Henry’s mouth like vomit. “He stuck to his missions. He…” </p>
<p>No way he’d do that. You’re embellishing. </p>
<p>“What Liam was angry about,” Henry said coolly, “Was what Charles did. In the report. I told them what happened exactly. He was…” </p>
<p>Arms around his middle. Sacrificing himself, knowing he was putting Henry first. Some scummy thief, no more virtuous than Liam himself, and he hadn’t even… </p>
<p>He kept waiting for Charles to be <em>angry</em>. Where was that? Was he still in shock? </p>
<p>“No one gave him enough credit,” Henry finally decided on. “Including me.” </p>
<p>Charles was stepping into his vision, masking Ellie’s sad sort of expression. </p>
<p>His eyes were desperate again, that look that told Henry he wanted to say something. Henry tried to fix his gaze away from both of them. </p>
<p>Charles’ hands came up like they were trying to cup his face, so close that Henry could see the small rips in the cuffs of his jacket. </p>
<p>That jacket didn’t exist anymore. Powder, now, like the rest of it all. </p>
<p>Ellie didn’t say she was sorry for him, which at least was good. He’d kick her annoying ass out for saying something that stupid to him. </p>
<p>Picasso was back, threading between his legs, and Henry was grateful for the momentary break he could take and pet her. </p>
<p>“Well, Purr-Catso seems happy now,” Ellie said, watching the kitten try to trip Henry on his way to the kitchen. “Anything else you need while I’m here?” </p>
<p>“From you?” Henry tried not to step on the enthusiastic cat. “No.” </p>
<p>“Nice.” Ellie didn’t look bothered, honestly, and it was scarier to think she might have recognized that as a joke. </p>
<p>Look, he didn’t hate her. She was alright, annoying as hell and way too scarily like him in ways, but he didn’t despise her. </p>
<p>God. That made two, Charles and Ellie. </p>
<p>“Well I’m going to bed,” Ellie said, “I’m tired of walking out in the rain and looking for furballs. Glad I found yours.” </p>
<p>She was on her way out, and that was fine, but Charles was being annoying. </p>
<p>‘Thank you’ </p>
<p>Henry ignored the sign, carefully scratching Picasso’s head with one finger. </p>
<p>‘Thank you’ </p>
<p>‘Thank you’ </p>
<p>‘Thank you!’</p>
<p>Charles was signing more and more elaborately, looking annoyed. </p>
<p>Henry shook his head at him behind Ellie’s back. </p>
<p>Charles signed like he was violently blowing kisses at Henry. </p>
<p>‘THANK YOU!’ </p>
<p>“Thanks,” Henry gritted out. </p>
<p>“Hm?” Ellie looked wickedly pleased when she turned around. “What was that?” </p>
<p>Oh, fuck you both. Charles skittered around so he was standing next to Ellie, waiting expectantly. </p>
<p>Both of them were wearing shit-eating grins. Henry was almost glad they’d never met. </p>
<p>“Thanks,” He bit, irritably, “From Charles, not me.” </p>
<p>Ellie gave him a small, genuine smile, eyes alight with amusement. </p>
<p>“Yeah, well, Charles is welcome,” Ellie shook her head at the angry thief on the floor. “I’m glad he had you around.” </p>
<p>And then she closed the door on Henry’s panicked face. </p>
<p>He didn’t dare look at Charles. He stared ferociously at his feline savior, trying to pretend the burning in his chest wasn’t there. </p>
<p>Picasso basked in the attention, but Charles was never far away from him. The guy sat on the floor also, and Henry refused to look up. </p>
<p>He wasn't going to think about what stupid words came out of her mouth just now. She had no right to speculate things like that, imagine up something with no basis, no kind of proof. Henry felt like he should be angry, but he just felt empty. </p>
<p>Carefully, Charles signed, where he knew Henry’s line of vision was. </p>
<p>‘Friend’. </p>
<p>Henry stopped petting the kitten, who batted at his hand. </p>
<p>Charles repeated himself. </p>
<p>‘Friend’. </p>
<p>Henry felt like his tongue was made of cotton, dry and clumsy in his mouth. </p>
<p>“I don’t think we were friends, Charles,” He said bluntly, wanting that shut down immediately. </p>
<p>They weren’t, and <em>that</em> was what Henry didn’t fucking understand. </p>
<p>Why. </p>
<p>For someone you weren’t even <em>friends</em> with. </p>
<p>Henry wasn’t like him. He wouldn’t have made that call. Charles had, and for who? </p>
<p>‘No’. </p>
<p>Henry had to think of what they were talking about, try to match that with the answer Charles was giving. It didn’t make sense. </p>
<p>‘N-O-W’. </p>
<p>Everything fell from beneath him. </p>
<p>It had to, what else caused this weird, falling sensation? Why that felt so earth-shattering, why it struck him so hard? </p>
<p>Henry stared at Charles’ hands, silent, still. </p>
<p>Charles had mirrored the way he sat, was close enough that they’d be touching knees, signed again. </p>
<p>‘H-E-N-R-Y’. </p>
<p>Slowly, the thief looked up. </p>
<p>Charles’ expression was calm. Not sad, upset, overly affectionate, hopeful. More like he was simply stating it all. </p>
<p>He looked at Henry like he was reading him in between the lines, and it was uncomfortable and soothing all at once. </p>
<p>Charles raised a hand, never breaking eye contact. </p>
<p>‘Thank you’, Charles signed, and for what Henry couldn’t fathom. </p>
<p>Picasso curled into Henry’s lap. The two men watched each other. </p>
<p>‘You’re welcome’, Henry signed back, half-heartedly, not even reaching towards his chin at all. </p>
<p>Charles smiled, and Henry lowered his gaze yet again. </p>
<p>The sign for thank you and you’re welcome are the same, and Henry knew which intent he’d placed behind it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Slapped</h2></a>
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    <p>The silence was ringing in his ears but he purposely didn’t move. </p><p>Henry stood, staring the man down. The sullen look in his eyes was replaced by something fierce and sharp, something far more like himself. A touch dangerous. </p><p>General Galeforce didn’t look remotely intimidated. He met Henry’s gaze without breaking it and spoke evenly. </p><p>“I can put up with a lot,” The General continued, jaw tense, “I <em>have</em> put up with a lot. But I can’t put up with this.” </p><p>Henry steeled himself, every muscle locked, body tensed like he was about to flee or attack. </p><p>The other man leaned forward, over the desk. </p><p>“I can’t have you attacking people on base,” The General snapped, “You’re putting me into positions I can’t be in.” </p><p>Henry wasn’t sorry. His expression must have told him so, because Galeforce switched tactics. </p><p>“I didn’t expect this from you,” The man said, tone bordering on disgust. “You know why you’re here, Stickmin? Because of Charlie.” </p><p>Henry grit his teeth. </p><p>“Charlie put his faith in you, so I’m willing to do the same. But this? I’m disappointed in you.” </p><p>His hands were trembling where they were held at fists by his sides. His nails were digging into his skin. </p><p>So? Go on and say it. Say what was next. Say what you’re thinking. </p><p>The wisp of Charles was beside him. Even in his peripheral vision he could see his chest heaving from deep breaths. </p><p>“Charlie would be-”</p><p>The General’s gaze flit suddenly to the side of his desk. His expression was drawn, looking like he was suddenly reading. </p><p>He stood, quickly, and sweat trickled down Henry’s neck. </p><p>“Go,” General G ordered him, “Back home. And be prepared to move soon. We might need to.” </p><p>What? The whiplash in topics made Henry recoil. </p><p>“Out,” The General made a violent motion with his arm, standing and grabbing his coat. “I’m locking up. I have to go.” </p><p>That did get Henry to leave, he slipped from the office and walked down the hallway. </p><p>People were skittering around. Speaking in hushed tones, shoving papers in each other’s face. Henry could feel Galeforce’s eyes drilling into his back and looked longingly at folders left on a nearby desk. </p><p>He was escorted from the building and immediately sprinted back towards the apartment. </p><p>Yeah, people were starting to move around here, too. They were moving vehicles, swinging open hangars. </p><p>His steps slowed. </p><p>Charles’ helicopter. Henry looked over at the shade beside him. </p><p>The other reached, tugging intangibly at his sleeve, expression worried. </p><p>‘Go, let’s go.’ </p><p>Henry took his pace back up, matching Charles, reaching the stairs at the same time. </p><p>Something was happening. He was so tired of not knowing what was going on. He was told nothing, not trusted, and now that he’d ‘attacked’ another military member he was apparently lucky if he was allowed to stay. </p><p>“I don’t have to stay,” Henry told Charles as he pulled out his keys. “I could do this alone.” </p><p>He might do better, too. For some reason he wasn’t getting missions anymore. Not since Ellie had gotten hurt, and she was much better now. Annoyingly better, always over to check on Picasso and ignore Henry for however long she petted his cat. </p><p>Not his cat. Charles’ cat. But not Charles’ cat so maybe it was his cat. Someone’s cat. </p><p>Someone’s cat ran to greet him when he entered, rubbing against his ankles until he was in real danger of tripping. </p><p>Charles chased after the cat a little, making grabby-hands towards the creature who couldn’t even see him. Henry watched, shoulder easing, though he still felt sick to his stomach. </p><p>The pilot was lying on the floor now, trying desperately to move a crinkly ball across the floor. </p><p>Nothing. Nothing since the incident that led to him getting the cat in the first place. Henry exhaled, slowly, sinking onto his couch. Charles looked over his shoulder, curls falling into sunken, tired eyes. </p><p>He didn’t like how closely he was being watched. Henry fidgeted. </p><p>‘I am not sad’, Charles’ brow furrowed as he signed, ‘at you. Mad at you? Bad at you. What G-a-l-e-f-o-r-c-e said.’</p><p>‘You’re not bad at ASL,’ Henry signed back, watching Picasso race around the room. ‘Why do cats run so much?’ </p><p>‘Don’t bullshit me.’ </p><p>Henry looked up, met Charles’ eyes. </p><p>The other’s expression was set. Solid. Burning. Henry was frozen. </p><p>‘You are good,’ Charles signed, eyes searching Henry’s face. ‘Okay? Good. I can tell you this here.’ </p><p>‘This is how you sign n-o-w,’ Henry pulled his hands into a ‘shaka’ gesture and pulled it down. ‘Not h-e-r-e.’ </p><p>‘Stop.’ </p><p>‘Need to practice more.’ </p><p>‘Stop. Stop.’ </p><p>‘I need to take a nap. You’ll play with the cat?” </p><p>Charles launched himself upwards drawing himself to all extra inches on Henry’s height. He slammed into Henry’s personal space, one knee between Henry’s legs and his hands planted on either side of him. </p><p>A breeze rushed past Henry, as if the other had been corporeal as he rushed him, but the thought was lost in how angry Charles looked. The fire in his gaze, the snarl in his mouth, jagging edges that usually were softened in smiles. </p><p>Henry could hear himself breathing. His eyes flit between Charles’. </p><p>The other signed nearly in front of his face, which was hard to follow. </p><p>‘Stop making me not right,” Charles winced at the clear lapse of language in his sentence, ‘Stop. You know what I’m saying. You know. You know, stop this bullshit. Stop saying I can’t hear!” </p><p>Henry turned his head, needing to look away, and Charles slammed his hand soundlessly against the couch. </p><p>‘I am here!’ Charles’ teeth were visible in his sneer, anger leaking from every pore of his face. ‘Now. Stop! I am here! Not him. He is wrong. Be with me, here.’ </p><p>Henry’s eyes burned. He stared, resolutely, over Charles’ right shoulder. </p><p>He couldn’t deal with this. And yes, he was being horrible to the remnant of Charles but what the hell could he do? He was seconds away from breaking down at any given moment. He needed to hang on until he could finish what he still had to do. He needed a mission. Not to talk to some shade of someone important to him. </p><p>Something cold pressed against his jaw, like liquid nitrogen being suddenly packed into his skin. </p><p>Henry recoiled away from Charles’ hand, eyes widening. </p><p>Charles looked just as shocked. He stared at Henry, pretty eyes wide, and suddenly brought both hands up to smush Henry’s cheeks between them. </p><p>Pain. </p><p>Henry yelped, scaring the absolute shit out of both the cat and Charles. Both jumped, and Picasso dove into a blanket-lined box. Charles jerked his hands away, holding them up like he was being arrested. </p><p>“Ow?!” Henry said aloud, shoulders drawn up to his ears. “Wh- Did you-”</p><p>Charles’ lips were parted. He reached forward, with a single finger. Tried to gently swipe it along his face. </p><p>Henry tensed but felt nothing. Not a breeze, a waft of coldness, nothing. </p><p>Charles looked irritated again, settling back on his heels, frowning at his hands. </p><p>He’d touched him. Henry’s heart was pounding in his ears. Charles had touched him. For a second, and painfully, but he’d felt something. It had hurt, he’d actually interacted with him. </p><p>It was while looking him over, seeing if there were bits of him perhaps more solid, that Henry realized. If he’d been corporeal right now, he’d be in his lap. </p><p>Back up came the shoulders. Charles looked over, raising an eyebrow. Tilting his head. </p><p>Henry’s mouth was dry. </p><p>‘Off?’ He signed, trying not to look anywhere but his face. ‘Please.’ </p><p>Charles looked puzzled, head tilting the other way, and then he got it. </p><p>He scrambled up, all long limbs and stumbly, cheeks suddenly darker than they were a second ago. </p><p>Henry wasn’t sure he’d ever find his voice again. He twisted his hands together, watching the floor, where Picasso was finally coming out of her box to see what commotions were afoot. </p><p>Henry touched his own face, where the skin still tingled as if it burned. He rubbed the areas that hurt, but the stinging persisted. </p><p>He’d touched him. He… Well, he <em>had</em> interacted with the mugs before, but this was the only other time it had happened. </p><p>Charles was resolutely poking everything in the apartment now with a look of fierce determination. </p><p>Henry watched him, absently scratching behind Picasso’s ears. </p><p>Had he forgotten he was angry at Henry just a second ago? Henry wasn’t about to remind him. </p><p><em>Charlie would be disappointed in you.</em> </p><p>He would be, wouldn’t he?</p><p>If really, he could see. More than just a shade, if the person who was killed could see what he was like right now. Lolling around base like a zombie, not a mission in months. Not even a fraction of the person he used to be. Useless. </p><p>He definitely wasn’t going to remind the wisp that he was supposed to be mad at him. Henry curled back against the couch, watching Charles try to kick a chair in frustration. </p><p>He needed to be smarter about this. What would he have done prior to...just being whatever this was? Probably kill Liam. Besides that. </p><p>He could probably promise better behavior if he was given something to do. Force being put on a mission, perhaps? Galeforce was obviously worried that he was going to go AWOL. It had occurred to him plenty of times. He could get this intel himself, and if they weren't going to give it to him faster than him doing it alone what was the point in sticking around any longer?</p><p>Picasso was asleep. Charles had his back to him, was eerily still. </p><p>Henry felt bad for the reflection. He truly did. But it wasn’t <em>real</em>. Not real in the way a real person was, anyway. It was just an imprint left, a reflection, and nothing else. </p><p>His face still stung and he was not going to think about it. He couldn't do it. If that really was real than he- He just couldn't deal with that. </p><p> He needed that next mission. Nothing else mattered. </p><p>Henry stood, and both the cat and the ghost looked at him. </p><p>“I’m going to warn Ellie,” Henry told them both, “That we might have to evacuate.” </p><p>Picasso had no reaction, but Charles’ face softened into a tired smile. </p><p>‘We like Ellie,’ He signed to Henry, coming to stand close against his shoulder. ‘She’s been a good friend.’ </p><p>The words stung him, in ways Charles obviously didn’t think about. He was smiling now, maybe forgot being angry entirely, and Henry shoved his bitterness aside. </p><p>“She has,” Henry admitted, “So come on.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Charles is moving onto what’s about plan Q at this point.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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